Crystal Clarity
by ADashOfInsanity
Summary: When others find mere dusty trinkets, Soren finds a bizarre stone under the desert sands. It's beautiful and strangely familiar, so he keeps it. Little does he know that as he holds this gem it becomes more than a mere bauble. He has a new listener now...
1. Desert Treasure

**AN: Hello, and welcome to ADashOfInsanity's first attempt at a multi-chaptered Fire Emblem fan fiction, "Crystal Clarity"!**

**This fan fiction will eventually contain IkexSoren and perhaps mentions of a few more BL pairings, so if that's not your cup of tea, please turn back now. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this story and please leave me a review to tell me what you think!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Desert Treasure<strong>

The dancing flickers from the dying fire emitted a timid glow, only bright enough to light up mere inches round its fading blaze. The minimal light did not hinder the scarlet gaze that surveyed the treasure cupped in his pale hands. It was a treasure that glimmered mesmerisingly in the waning light, a treasure quite unlike anything the bearer had seen before. The room was bathed in silence, interrupted occasionally by a feeble crackle from the declining source of warmth, but apart from the fire, all was still and quiet. The treasure shimmered before the bearer's watch, it was like no crystal he had come across before. It was no glistening diamond, ruby or sapphire but yet it was not a common magic-imbued device. It was too large to be a laguz-stone and too beautifully cut to be a common building stone.

"Fit for a strange monarch," he breathed through the silence.

It was utterly beautiful. Now he had dabbed away the last of the desert's sands away from its polished surface with a wet rag. It was blue-grey in colour and it seemed to radiate a warm glow that could be felt as he held it in a cupped palm. He dared not test it for magical ability just yet, he would observe it for a little longer, perhaps, research its purpose, before approaching whatever enchantment was producing that comforting warmth. There was nothing malevolent about it, as far as he had observed so far. However, as he had learnt from many torturous experiences, what may seem friend rather than foe may turn on you at any moment and hurt you immensely. He didn't yet trust this crystal enough to address its magic just yet.

Soren turned it over and stared at the identical other side of the stone. It was cut like a regular gemstone, perhaps for the hilt of a sword or a royal sceptre, however its weight was deceptive for a crystal so large. It was just big enough to fit in his palm quite comfortably, but light enough almost not to be noticeable when carried. It was no doubt rare and valuable, and as Soren stared at it his mind wandered to duty. If he sold this he could raise significant funds for their cause. This shimmering gemstone could raise gold for new lances, axes, swords, tomes, staves… or he could keep it, for himself… He had been the one to discover it so the choice was all his.

Besides, he was the only one who knew about it. He had uncovered it from the desert sands when they had been fighting the Laguz Emancipation group. It had connected with his foot and he had picked it up and realised it was quite unlike any thing they had uncovered so far. This was no talisman or dusty sand-ruined tome. He had turned to show his findings to Ike but found his commander was actually about twenty paces behind him and struggling through the sand. He hadn't had the chance to show him that day, and had neglected to show anyone since.

Why shouldn't he keep it?

They weren't low on funds at the moment, the apostle was paying quite generously, and they weren't short of equipment either. Soren wrapped the crystal in both his hands, it was still warm, and the warmth was…comforting. It wasn't as if he had many possessions, especially not like this. All he owned fitted into one canvas bag he carried from camp to camp. Two sets of robes, he had only one pair of boots, a cape for the cold and his four tomes, an Elfire, Elthunder, Tornado and Elwind. That was all he owned, his old books, the non-magical tomes, had been lost when they had fled Crimea. The most valuable thing he owned was the Tornado tome, and that was for war… besides he couldn't even use it yet. And then there was this crystal, this gemstone, was it so selfish of him to want to keep it? All his life he had owned so very little and now…this was a treasure, something useless, but…special. He had never had such a novelty….

The stone was almost familiar to him, it fit so well in his hand, the warmth it gave was soothing, calming, it was… He was going to keep it.

"Soren?" He hastily hid the stone inside the sleeves of his robes.

"What do you want?" he demanded. The door opened and Oscar stuck his head round the doorframe, with some caution, Soren noticed. Had they been talking about him behind his back again? Admittedly he'd never seen proof of the other times they'd done it. But he knew they must have, and probably were now.

"Ike is wondering where you are, he says you are likely to be sitting alone in the dark. I guess he was right then."

"Why didn't Ike come and find me himself?" Oscar paused for a moment and then said, awkwardly.

"He thinks you're angry at him," Soren blinked in shock, but that's as far as he let his surprise show in front of the paladin.

"Well I am not angry with him," Soren replied, he slid his hand into his sleeve to make sure the stone was still there, "He can come and talk to me whenever he wants."

"Should I tell him that?" Soren gave a curt nod and Oscar left no time wasted in hastily leaving the doorway and hurrying back down the corridor. Soren sighed and took the stone from his pocket once more.

_"Does he know?"_ he whispered, _"Commander Greil did…Did he tell anyone else?"_ Of course the stone was silent. Soren simply stared at it, turning it over and over in his hands, after a short while he held it still and merely traced its edges with a single pale finger.

_"Of course Ike doesn't know… I'm sure most of them are ignorant…otherwise... I do not need anymore rejection… Ike wouldn't. Would he?"_

He felt very strange, talking to a stone. To be honest the mere idea of it was absolutely ludicrous. Talking to an inanimate object was both pointless and foolhardy, nothing could be gained from it, and be honest it made you look slightly less sane than if you hadn't. Of course Soren understood about treasuring things. Everyone treasured something, and most treasured a possession. Rolf had the bow Shinon made him. (Of course he knew they were teacher and pupil, he knew almost everything that happened round the mercenary band) Shinon himself treasured the little flask he kept hidden in his quiver. His emergency stash of drink, Soren had once seen him refilling it.

What else… Mist had her mother's medallion, that strange glowing bronze circle. She talked to that. And it seemed to do her some good. She only talked it though because it reminded her of her mother, attachment to a person through an object, that was slightly better…but talking to a stone he only just found? Madness.

"I don't have any emotional connection to it, so why should I talk to it? It's not like I have her kind of _attachments_…"

"Who are you talking to?" Soren glanced backwards and heard footsteps, and then the creak of the door opening. Soren scowled, he had spoken his thoughts to the stone again, so much for not talking to inanimate objects...

"I wasn't talking," he informed Ike, who invited himself inside and stared at the sage who was sitting on the floor by the fire.

"I'm sure I heard you talking," Ike seemed to want conversation because he sat on the floor next to him, only about an inch away from him. Soren could smell drink on him, probably spilt, not drunk. Ike seemed to be in a perfectly normal state. It seemed the others were celebrating their latest victory in their favourite way, by going to the local tavern for 'dinner'.

"You must have heard someone in a nearby room," said Soren, dropping the stone into his sleeve and hoping Ike didn't see it. Luckily for him, Ike was staring at his face, not his hands, so his actions went unnoticed.

"So you're not angry with me?" Soren took in his tired expression and drooping eyelids, he was clearly exhausted. It was funny how Ike could stride out onto a battlefield, mow down a field of soldiers as if they were merely wheat and then come back and still manage to train with Mia all evening. However, one day of supposed-rest in the cathedral and Ike looked as if he'd just taken on the whole Daein army and all the Feral Ones in existence, all at the same time. Of course Soren knew why.

Battle drained the body, politics drained the soul. Ike wanted nothing to do with politics however necessary it was as Elincia's protector. He constantly endangered himself by speaking out of turn, and if Titania wasn't there he probably would've ended up swinging from the gallows by now. This was of course, good, but Soren just wished to be free of all this horrible court procedure. He hated the idea of flowering up your words for someone just because they wore fancy robes and drank from golden cups worth more than most people's homes. If it was up to him, he would give them a nice blast of Elfire, melt those chalices, and tell them to get a grip on themselves. He could never cope with being a noble, luckily he would never have reason to.

"Are you?" Ike reminded him.

"Of course I'm not," he replied, "I have no reason to be angry with you... this time,"

"This time?" Ike asked, worriedly, "You've been angry with me? When were you angry and..." Soren gave him a pointed look. A sudden look of dawning comprehension appeared on Ike's face.

"Oh, that was a joke,"

"You can't tell the difference?" Soren inquired. Ike shrugged.

"You've been so serious lately. On our spare days in the court we never even see you, apart from when we have meeting before missions. So I assumed you were angry with me."

"I'm not angry," said Soren as Ike stared at his face this time. He seemed to be trying to work out how Soren was feeling; perhaps he was worried that indeed he was angry, despite being told he wasn't.

"As for my absence," Soren continued, "Mainal Cathedral has the greatest library on Tellius, I thought it wise to learn a little more about the countries we were dealing with."

"So you're an expert on Daein now?" Soren dipped his head.

"I haven't had that much time, but my knowledge is substantial enough to be of some use," Ike smiled.

"You're clever enough as it is. Half of the stuff you say blows right past me, but I feel safer knowing there's someone like you I can always rely on. Thanks Soren." Soren's lips twitched with a smile and it was if his new stone had settled somewhere near his heart. He felt...strangely warm. He knew this was nothing to do with the stone however, he had always felt like this when Ike paid him a compliment, ever since they were both small. He had never doubted why Ike affected him so. This must be what trust, and possibly even admiration, did to you. He never had trusted anyone except Ike, so it was no wonder Ike had that rare gift of making him feel special...and wanted.

"I hope you can continue to rely on my knowledge always," he eventually replied after a moment of silence in which both men gazed into the stuttering fire. Ike squeezed his shoulder and then got to his feet.

"Well, get some sleep alright? There's no knowing what ridiculous meeting we might all get dragged into tomorrow. I need a great thinker like you, these nobles are a pain in the backside..." Soren did smile this time. The slight curve of the lips made Ike smile wider as he left the room, probably off to his own quarters. Soren sighed as the fire finally lost its last few embers' glow. He crossed over to the bed and sat down. He couldn't help but take out his treasure and sit there in the silence, once again with that comforting warmth. Before he could stop himself, he began to speak.

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><p>Hundreds upon hundreds of miles away, another figure was lying in the dark, reading by the solitary light of a thin arched window opposite his bed that was full of silvery moonlight. A heap of scrolls lay on the finely embroidered bedcovers and they were scattered as the Prince of Goldoa sat up, peering at the scroll he had unfurled before him, which was written entirely in the Ancient Language. He sighed and set it to one side and lay back on his bed, pushing his green-black hair out of his crimson eyes as he stared at the tiny cracks in the ceiling. He couldn't believe how angry his father had been. All he'd done was help the beorc mercenaries get their ship off the reef and replenished their supplies for them! It was harmless, they had seemed like good beorc, and he would much prefer to meet them again than those disgusting Kilvas pirates. But no, his father had decided that because he had helped that ship he was encouraging war!<p>

One ship did not equate an entire war. So the blunt beorc he'd talked to had been quite heavily armed, but did that mean they were going to release the dark god just by setting sail to Begnion? His father had been like this since his brother and sister vanished off to Daein. He could understand his father's worry, he felt it too, but keeping him contained in the royal palace was not understandable. He was wise enough not to go tearing off to Daein to find them but the fact his father had effectively imprisoned him in his own home for the next twenty years was quite annoying. It wasn't exactly a long time, but that was twenty years worth of doing nothing and not being able to go out and talk to anyone outside the castle and...

Suddenly Kurthnaga jumped to his feet. He thought he had just heard...whispering. It could of course just be a breeze but he was sure there was no draft in this room whatsoever. He stood there, still as a statue and just as silent. Yes, someone was whispering very close by, he couldn't make out any individual words but there was the noise, a long hiss of whispered words that occasionally altered in tone and speed, typical of speech. Kurthnaga frowned and tried to find the source of noise and ended up being drawn over to a wooden chest that sat in the corner of his room. He opened it with a creak and began to sort through its contents, listening carefully and trying not to make too much noise as he searched for the source of the whispering. He amassed a pile of books, scrolls, old boots, a few laguz stones, and many dusty once-sparkly trinkets that he didn't ever remember owning or using. However, finally, after he had emptied the whole hoard onto the floor, he found the whispering. Tucked away in the darkness of the chest's furthermost corner, was something small, chipped, and mostly broken, but still very recognisable. A sending stone.

Kurthnaga hastily took it out and rubbed the dirt and debris off it, onto his clothes. It had cracked entirely in half and even so was distinctly different to the stones that his family used at the moment. Recently, only in the last fifty to seventy years or so, they had found a better crystal to use for their sending stones. They held the enchantments much better and required a lot less use of the user's own innate magic. Also, the newer stones, which were a clearer paler white or blue, could be used by any magic-user, so if they wanted they could use them for communication means with other nations some time after the thousand years isolation, they could. However the old crystals, like this one, could be activated by someone magical but, only, if they were of dragon-blood.

However that made this new whispering even more intriguing. There was a dragon laguz out there with an old sending stone, what was he or she doing? Kurthnaga held onto the stone tightly and suddenly heard, much louder.

"_Well they have all reason to avoid me. Even if the others are blissfully unaware, the Begnion nobles have no doubt shunned many...like me. They know what I am, that icy look brings back memories. But _he_ doesn't know...and...Whilst I wish to be adequately happy...I cannot tell him."_

Kurthnaga looked at the broken stone, utterly stunned. He had almost called out when he had first heard the voice. His initial (foolish) thought, was that it was Almedha. It sounded like her, first thing in the morning when she snapped at everyone who woke her up and then everyone afterwards for about an hour.

But no, the voice was most definitely male, a young male probably. This was fascinating! There was a young male dragon in Begnion? He must be quite young as he evidently didn't know the true purpose of the stone he was speaking to. He evidently must have got attached to it and talked to it as a sort of confident. Which meant he was mostly likely to be very lonely? He was obviously shunned; he could hear it in the words he spoke and the icy but sad, tone of his voice. One laguz in such a prejudiced nation as Begnion who still kept 'secret' laguz slaves! Perhaps he was a slave? Kurthnaga crossed the room and found a clean scroll and pen and ink. He had made up his mind. From now on, he could keep record of this stray brother of his kind. He would write down everything he heard through the stone and word by word he'd learn more and more about this lost boy. When he had enough information, perhaps then he'd come to a decision about what to do about it, and whether to contact them back.

Perhaps these twenty years of containment wouldn't be so bad?


	2. Of Herons

**AN: I was surprised at the positive reaction I got from last chapter, thank you very much and I'm glad everyone liked the first chapter enough to add alerts and review! Thank you!**

**Here is chapter two! Soren's familiarity with his crystal has given him the freedom to rant this chapter. The customs of Begnion have become frivilous and annoying to him, but not only that, he is loosing patience with himself, and, as the title suggests, with herons. But what does his listener, the Dragon-Prince, think of all this?**

**Please enjoy, and please leave a review!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Of Herons<strong>

Begnion, the land of civil absurdity. Soren had christened the land with this very title, on the very first night he and the rest of the mercenaries had been given lodgings in this opulent cathedral. He had been expecting, and therefore had factored into his financial plans, that they would be sent to find their own accommodation at a tavern or such. However, Begnion had annoyingly proved him otherwise and given them rooms, and now he had to re-write all his predictions of future expenditure. This was utterly necessary, however when Ike came thundering into the gardens where he sat announcing there was a new assignment for them, given by the apostle, Soren was glad for an excuse to lay the books aside and plan something a little more...animated.

He had immediately started planning how they were to approach Duke Tanas and the Serenes Forest, and was just about to hold a meeting, informing the mercenaries of their new strategy, when Elincia decided the best thing to do was invite them all to a great fancy feast the Apostle was holding. Once the invitation had been made, of course they couldn't refuse it. So rather than a nice productive meeting that would only benefit the company in the near future, they all had to don borrowed finery and go and dine with decadent senators who peered down at the group over their upturned noses.

Civil absurdity, he had been right.

Of course, the feast had been delicious. He only ate in very small amounts, and barely tasted most of what was laid on the table with flamboyant flourishes. However he could tell the others were enjoying themselves. Mist told Titania she reckoned this was what being treated like a princess was like, Titania said she had never attended such a high class event and felt honoured. Opposite them, Oscar was asking one of the chefs who brought out the dishes for cooking advice. Whilst Oscar conversed in polite tones, Kieran waved his fork about in an air of great gusto proclaiming how as a Royal Knight of Crimea, he would one day make sure that the halls of Crimea held similar feasts of such absolute splendour, _and_ he would make everyone here attend to see their magnificence in the honour of their Queen and Country.

Soren couldn't help but glance at their 'Queen and Country' who had insisted on sitting next to Ike for this feast and merely tittered in laughter every time Ike used the wrong cutlery, or knocked something important over.

"_Oh Sir Ike! The small silver one with the serrated edge is for that kind of meat!" _

"Oh Sir Ike," Soren had impersonated that very evening, whilst in conversation to his crystal, "Let me sigh over you in such an utterly obvious immature fashion and blush so much it makes me look like a rosy drunkard..." Of course he had said nothing of the sort at the time. He had been sitting at Ike's right hand side, whilst she was on his left. His answer to her cutlery advice had been more on the lines

"_My apologies Princess Elincia, as simple mercenaries we are unaccustomed to such_...elaborate_ dining arrangements."_

"_Your apologies are accepted Sir Tactician,"_ she had replied, _"Though I have noticed you are having no trouble with the arrangements."_

"_I am widely read,"_ Soren replied, _"These _extravagant _customs are often written as tales of intrigue," _

"_I see,"_ said Elincia, Soren thought it was more than likely that she didn't, having not noticed his sarcasm in the slightest.

However Soren could care very little about the events of that feast. Or, similiarly, the eventual meeting he had managed to hold the next day about gaining information from Duke Tanas. The main issue on his mind was how they were possibly going to do one very key and important thing: survive the nightmare that was Serenes Forest.

Upon entering the charred wasteland, he could almost taste the magic used to transform trees to barren pillars, animals to ash, and a whole race into mere memories. The very air smelt of death and the ground crunched underfoot with what Soren could best describe as charcoal, mixed in with all the flaky mud. The spirits of fire still lingered here. Soren raised his head to the dark sky and sensed the traces of great satisfaction. The spirits had most certainly pleased their blood-lust, to wipe out a whole laguz race... That must have been a great feast to them. But they were not here to observe and despair, they were heron-hunting, as Gatrie had called it as they set out. Unfortunately, he had been reminded, and so had they all, that they were not the only ones 'heron-hunting'.

"We could be easily separated! Anyone who gets lost in this forest, will remain lost, so mind your position! And keep an eye out for the heron, but don't let it distract you!" Ike called out to the mercenaries on Soren's instructions as he knocked back an axe-wielder and knocked him to the ground allowing Soren to end the man's life with a deadly bolt from the sky. The clash of metal on metal, the ring of armour being struck, the yells as iron and steel sunk through flesh, the flashes and crashes of magic, they raised a hellish symphony until finally...

"Greil Mercenaries regroup!"

Soren sank back, leaning onto the nearest barren stump. He wasn't too exhausted and he had managed to reserve his magical and physical strength to only what he thought was necessary for this battle. That said, his Elthunder tome had taken more damage that he had. It had been struck with a sword, severing the bindings and Soren had to keep it together as Ike quickly dispatched the swordsman of his head. He had the feeling several wads of pages now lay dirtied on the ground, trampled and quite useless. It was lucky he was close to learning the enchantment off by heart, or, like Ilyana in their last battle, he would have his eyes so fixated on his book he had no idea when any of the others needed his back up or support. No wonder they had kept Ilyana out of this battle, she was probably quite happily raiding their food supplies back in camp, they didn't need her right here and now.

"Ike!" Ike turned at the call of his name, but so did Soren, as the voice had most definitely been Nasir's. Soren did not know he was even on the battle field. If he had been here all along then it would have been pretty convenient if he had actually fought alongside them. Of course Soren knew what he was, and so had the laguz too. Mordecai had muttered to Lethe one day that the ship's captain smelt 'odd', which was better than Soren smelt apparently, because he had once heard that Lethe said he smelt 'wrong'. However the mark on Nasir's forehead was a clue enough to his nationality, and it would be very useful if he actually decided to help them instead of turning up in the middle of this goddess-forsaken forest out of nowhere when it so suited him.

And it seemed to suit him very well, because he had discovered a heron.

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><p>From the very next battle onwards, Soren had the feeling that he did not like herons. Firstly, the heron they had found wasn't even the heron they were looking for, it was a female one. Now they had to come up with an entirely new plan, but they couldn't, because they were suddenly attacked and Ike was left holding this vulnerable heron-princess meaning he couldn't even fight properly as they were attacked from all angles! Even the paladins couldn't cope when the onslaught came from every direction and the reinforcements Titania had called <em>yet again<em>, hadn't even arrived yet. His Elthunder tome was on its last legs and they could all get spitted, and the fault of course lay with one single race. Herons. Not that Ike seemed to mind.

"Soren, get behind me! You can attack at a range and I'll take the hits better!"

"This is not a time to be noble," Soren told him, "You're burdened as it is,"

"It'll be no burden, but if one of those," He gestured to the mounting hoard of enemies, "Hits you, I'd hate to see the consequences,"

"So would I," Soren replied, as he evaded a blast of fire and promptly blew the mage off his feet and with a sickening crunch, into the nearest tree, "It would prove that we are struggling to fight ridiculously inept enemies," Ike laughed.

"Yes, that, and I would hate to see you in any pain," Soren found his eyes widening as Ike made up his mind for him and stood before him so all Soren could see was the creature of pink dress and golden hair draped on Ike's back. Soren however was struck by what he knew Ike thought was only a fly away turn of phrase, a passing comment of no real meaning to him. However to Soren, anyone that wished he didn't come to any pain...was like finding the needle in an infinite haystack...

His hands clenched around his tome and that warm trusting feeling returned and he determinately made sure no one would ever even get near Ike. With an almost manic fervour, he made sure any enemy who got too close to Ike was immediately roasted or sliced into pieces by the very air around them. Soon he didn't need to even check his tomes, spells around them formed like a blazing wall, never touching the three the enchantments encompassed, but completely obliterating anything within a close radius.

"Soren...you're..." Ike seemed astounded, but Soren didn't have time to reply, he didn't even reply when someone cried,

"Hawks! Hawk Laguz are attacking the enemy!" Enemy reinforcements immediately surged into sight and Ike stepped forwards, with Soren behind them, but Ike didn't get to exchange a single blow as Soren's wind and fire overcame even the hardiest enemy. In fact this didn't change until they began to assault the boss, Duke Tanas himself, when the flow of magical Ancient tongue stopped behind Ike and he heard a thud.

"SOREN?" He turned round, careful to make sure Gatrie and Boyd would protect him from any potential cowardly surprises. He knelt down, the heron still on his back to check whether Soren was gained any injury and merely saw his tactician lying weakly on the ground, his limbs were trembling and he looked flushed and exhausted, apart from that, he was fine.

"Soren, what happened?"

"Overused...magic..." Soren explained, his voice was tired but angry, not at Ike of course, but at himself. How could he let himself get so carried away! That was idiotic, beyond idiotic, it was childish and immature to let his magic run away with his emotion! So he may have felt some...admiration...for his Commander, who couldn't fight properly at the moment due to the heron-ly burden he carried... But to let that manifest into such an irresponsible tidal wave of power! How did he know when he could use magic again? He may be a burden to the group for weeks! He was so angry at himself, Ike's next words came as a surprise.

"That was the most _amazing_ thing, I have ever seen..."

"It was stupid," Soren replied, his tone icy from rage at his own folly.

"No it was...astounding," said Ike, sounding slightly lost for words, "I...I didn't realise you were that powerful..."

"Magic gets stronger with the wielder's emotional state," Soren explained in a quiet voice, trying to maintain all the energy he could.

"So..." said Ike, "So, you were angry, or upset... Did I upset you by telling you to stay back?" Soren shook his head, now even more angry with himself. First he had been reckless, and now he had make Ike worry about him, what next? Was he going to reveal his great secret to the man and hope beyond hope Ike was the naive saviour he seemed and didn't know a thing about the Branded, Spirit Charmers or anything of the sort? He was livid with himself, and when livid with himself Soren did as he always did. Cut himself off from everybody.

"No, you didn't. Now if you would help me to my feet, I believe Titania has slaughtered our enemy the Duke." And indeed she had. Ike instantly took the bait, helped Soren up, whilst still holding onto the heron, and then walked off to regroup and make sure everyone was in one piece. Soren found himself following, very slowly, until Rhys noticed what bad shape he was in and immediately presented him with an vulnerary. Although not physically harmed, Soren took it, knowing it would at least give him enough energy to walk properly. He thanked Rhys and then turned to watch Ike. The hawks were nearby and, behind them... another heron...

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><p>"What use is a heron? They are fragile, and the only reason anyone likes them is the fact they look pretty. They are about as civil and ornamental as the rest of Begnion's finery and...and be he the prince or no, he has no right to cast such judgement."<p>

Soren was very annoyed. In fact, annoyed, was an understatement. In fact angry would be an understatement, livid would be an understatement, _goddess-damned furious_ would be the most accurate term for his current emotional state. And that yet only brushed the surface of his inner rage! Of course all this boiling emotion was kept hidden on the inside and only manifested itself in single clenched hand and slight icy tone to the speech. Therefore the members of the court and mercenary group had no reason to know he felt this way.

Of course the herons did. Boyd had already been quick to tell his younger brother frightening tales about how the herons could see into your very soul and would punish you for all the sins in your heart. He had done it with much arm waving and spooky noises and Oscar and given him a gentle nudge to the head and told him to stop it. Rolf, of course, had asked whether Boyd was telling the truth and Oscar informed him that herons could indeed read a person's heart, but they punished nobody.

In Soren's opinion however, Boyd was the closest the truth. Apparently, the female heron, Princess Leanne was her name, remembered Ike, but Prince Reyson had seen Ike protecting Leanne, but also Soren's reckless wall of magic protecting them both. He had obviously decided this 'powerful little mage' was trying to protect Leanne as well, when of course in reality all Soren's attentions had been focussed solely on Ike. He had told Leanne everything that had happened, and much to Soren's annoyance, Princess Leanne wished to see her two rescuers before she departed. And so, the two herons and the Hawk King found Ike and with him Soren.

Soren paid no special attention to them at first, he was still railing at himself inside for such an irresponsible use of magic and luckily Ike managed to handle the situation quite well. And then he introduced Soren...

Both herons looked at him and Soren stared straight back, serene emeralds meeting raging rubies. Prince Reyson let out a long sigh and turned away, saying something quite audibly in the Ancient Language... ignorant to the fact Soren was almost fluent in said language. What the Heron Prince had said was the reason for Soren's fury. The stream of ancient that the prince had so carelessly remarked on seeing Soren, and no doubt his heart, was this:

"_Prince Bitterness"_

"Prince. Bitterness." Soren repeated, that evening, lying on his bed and staring, almost mesmerised by his glimmer gemstone, "Prince of Bitterness. What have I done to deserve such a noble title? Prince of Bitterness, he must be bitter too after losing his kin, he cannot lay all the bitterness on me." All his rage that had been so directed at himself, finally found an outlet, and the words came thick and fast, as if he breathed flames.

"I have reason to be bitter, yet I am not _wholly_ bitter. Many call me a pessimist, but I am not, I am realistic. I have seen the worst, and however much the idealists dream, the worst will come, for that is the fate of man be he whatever blood, and trebled worst for those...like me. I cannot sing hope and joy into hearts like a fanciful heron. I can only commit...ridiculous... acts of power before the commander." He sighed

" Of herons. Well, it is likely we will no longer need to speak of herons so I will faithfully obey without such remarks from such high herons. I will refrain from making such rash moves, and I will make sure my power is only used when utterly necessary." He looked at the stone which shone brilliantly in front of the brightly crackling fire. He contemplated it for a moment and suddenly felt ridiculous.

"Talking to a pebble," he remarked. He tucked the stone under his pillow and lay down on the bed, still fully robed, only having the need to take his boots off. It was clear his lack of energy was making him tired and tetchy. It was remarkable he still had such energy to rant. But his desire to speak was fuelled by something quite different. A boiling vat of energy buried somewhere within him...something he could not use for common magic... He always associated it with his...condition. It must be something he got from his laguz side, and had decided to never prod at it further.

* * *

><p>Kurthnaga felt incredibly sorry for the poor man. He had started to form what he called his 'master theory' and only needed to hear a few more details before he wrote his theory down and saw how it looked. He was now certain that his mysterious correspondent was indeed an enslaved dragon laguz in Begnion. The evidence all pointed that way. Herons saw the true nature of the heart and it seemed this lost brother had encountered one (also a laguz slave most likely) and they had insulted him and called him the Prince of Bitterness.<p>

Now, someone turned to cold anger and bitterness for a reason, and as far as Kurthnaga could think, there was only one main reason. This main reason would be that they had wrongly suffered a great deal of torturous abuse, be it mental, physical, or both. Bitterness would stem from the fact this abuse had been completely undeserved, and this anger was most likely a manifestation of great frustration of being so powerful yet so defenceless, like a caged animal. He evidently knew, perhaps from his parents, what freedom tasted like, and it of course had only made him more bitter. He seemed obedient to his master, who he sometimes called 'the commander', but it was clear he was only enslaved to this man until he saw his opportunity to burst free from his restraints and fly back to Goldoa.

It was likely he had never seen his homeland before, being so young. It seemed to Kurthnaga that this enslaved dragon could only be a hatchling in comparison to most of his kind, he had no doubt barely reached twenty years of age! Kurthnaga was sure that he would receive a hero's welcome if he ever managed to get home safely. No doubt people would crowd him for stories of the torturous outside world. He would become quite famous. He had already captured Kurthnaga's imagination and pity and would no doubt do the same to many others! Kurthnaga could not see anything worse than being a slave, well being a Parentless would be terrible, but that was unrelated to his point. He wondered whether this enslaved brother was a red dragon or a white dragon... He seemed highly powerful which may show red characteristics...he seemed also very skilled to have won the favour of his master's close company, but also he must look beautiful to be in the same attendance as a heron, so perhaps a white...

Which could he be...?

Kurthnaga was roused from his thoughts when a very familiar voice came close to his doorway.

"Your highness?" It was gruff and exhausted, Kurthnaga could only guess that his father had been tetchy of late and had been over-working his close advisors.

"You may enter Gareth," The red dragon entered the room, he did indeed look quite tired.

"Are you feeling alright?" Kurthnaga asked him, rising from his seat, but not laying the broken sending stone to one side just in case he missed any speech that held crucial details. His conscious nagged at him that it was slightly rude to be listening to someone else when Gareth obviously wished to speak to him, however, he could deal with both at once. Each matter was probably equally as urgent.

"I am fine your highness," Gareth told him, roughly, "I am here to ask of your health, you have not been seen at meal times for the last week or so. His Majesty is concerned that being kept inside the walls of the palace has frustrated you with him." Kurthnaga smiled warmly.

"I have been taking meals in my room, there is no concern for my health. I am merely occupied. It's strange that my father is concerned for me over such a tiny space of time."

"The King has been getting irritable of late," said Gareth, Kurthnaga gestured for him to sit down and the red dragon gratefully took the seat that rested by the wall.

"He believes war is coming and he wishes for Goldoa to have no mention in it. However it seems two of our number has already wrapped themselves up in it without his permission." Kurthnaga sighed.

"Nasir and Ena, of course... Where is my sister in law now?" Gareth contemplated him for a moment and then decided to change the topic completely. Probably on the King's orders, Kurthnaga thought, his father wanted to keep a grip on the only child he had that hadn't slipped away into trouble.

"What are you doing, locked up in here?" Gareth asked him.

"Do you wish to know, or does my father?" Kurthnaga asked.

"I do," said Gareth, with a small smile, "There is no need for you to be quite so suspicious, you will turn as shrewd as your father if you are not careful." The dragon prince laughed and decided he might as well show Gareth what he was doing. He would eventually need all the support he could get when he decided to go and rescue his new concern. However more information would be needed before he could confirm anything

"I don't wish to make false claims, so will you give me a few more weeks, and I will tell you what I have discovered," he told Gareth, "It is significant and almost story-like in nature, but I believe I may have found a lost member of our nation."

"A lost Goldoan?" said Gareth, sounded alarmed, "Don't you think you should alert your father? This is a matter of great importance! Where are they?"

"Begnion," said Kurthnaga grimly, Gareth's alarm faded and he seemed to fully understand how difficult the situation was.

"We can't interfere with Begnion," said Kurthnaga, "And would Father let anyone stray into that nation? That is why I need more information, there must be some way of helping them, but I need to know a lot more." It was clear Gareth hadn't expected what had kept him isolated in his room to be quite so profound and important. He had obvious believed that Kurthnaga, being the youngest of the King's children and regarded not to be as mature as his elder brother, or as...passionate...as his elder sister, must be dealing in immature matters of little significance. However he had been proved quite wrong, and the red dragon got to his feet, hoping he hadn't interrupted any important.

"I wish you all fortune then," he said. Kurthnaga nodded.

"Thank you," Gareth hastily departed and Kurthnaga slumped in his chair, pulling the quill pen out from behind his ear where it had been leaking ink uncomfortably down the side of his neck. Well. It seemed he had made a noticeable effect on Gareth. He could only hope he could get the same reaction from his father when finally he had enough information to free his captured kin.


	3. Keeping Record

**AN: Thank you for all the faves and alerts, and especially the reviews! I'm grateful for all the feedback I can get, and I will always respond and answer any questions you may have! **

**This chapter turned out to be a long one, because I'd forgotten quite how long Ike and Soren's support conversations were! Their B-rank conversation turns up in this chapter, but apart from that, Soren makes an enemy out of a fellow mercenary, which will come back to bother him in the future! **

**Also, I'll apologise for the lack of Kurthnaga in this chapter. However there is a reason for it, the next chapter is entirely dedicated to him!**

**Please enjoy, and please review!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Keeping Record<strong>

Despite the complaints of his companions, Soren greatly preferred staying in large camps and resting in sturdy tents than being tidied away into an overly-decadent box in Mainal Cathedral. The only thing he missed about the cathedral was its wonderful library. However, he knew he wouldn't have the time to keep reading anyway, he had much more important matters to attend to. He had a lot more to do now they were safely in their own camp and he could lose himself to the routine monotonous checks that currently involved checking how much gold they had and intended to spend. That was what he was doing at the moment, sitting in a heavily guarded supply tent scratching numbers into the company ledgers with a slightly battered quill pen.

He couldn't help but notice someone had left a Recover Staff in there and every time he made a mark on the page, his mind kept wandering back to the forgotten staff. Who did it belong to? And why had left something so valuable behind? He finished tallying their expenditure and got to his feet, picking up the book and the staff and leaving the tent. Right, he had to give the book to Titania, and then he had to find out who had been so careless as to leave something so expensive lying around. He found Titania with relative ease. She was just leaving the tent she shared with Mist, and was probably going out to train by the fact she was clutching a hand axe.

"Is this the gold records?" she asked when he wordlessly handed her the book.

"Of course," he said, before leaving her with them. She was intelligent enough to read what he had written, he wasn't going to explain it all when he had far better things to do. His next task was to go round the entire camp and check whether anyone was lacking any supplies, weaponry, or medicine. This was supposed to be Ike's duty, but as Ike himself had said, after much prompting by Titania, it would give Soren a chance to be "sociable". Sociable! There were many points in his life that he had intensely disliked Titania, and that was one of them. He could be sociable if he so wished. He just chose not to! Besides, no one wanted to be sociable with him! Not the intimidating red-eyed sage with a funny mark on his head.

So Titania could go out shopping with the other women if she wanted to (she had whilst they were still in the Begnion capital), and Ike could stay up late drinking and talking with Ranulf and the other laguz. However, he, Soren, was going to do his duty and do as Ike told him. Oh wait, do as _Lord _Ike told him. Ike was a Lord now, a General of Crimea. The thought made Soren smile very slightly. Never in a thousand years would he ever believe the simple mercenary, who once scared horses with his snoring, and always forgot to do his boots up whenever it snowed, was now a Lord!

"Well wha' do you know? The...the creepy little whelp _can_ smile!" There was a loud hiccup from behind him and he whipped round, his smile fading instantly and his gaze becoming severe. A few days ago, they had breached a vital part of Daein's defences. With the battle, they had accept three new laguz allies, including that damned heron prince, who were all very useful and generally pleasant and helpful round camp. Ike seemed to get on with both of the new hawks. Janaff liked to help putting tents up, and Soren had seen Ulki carrying medical supplies for Rhys, who he seemed to get along with. There was nothing bothersome about these laguz at all.

And then they got another new recruit.

Well he wasn't new at all. He had merely returned to their ranks after traitorously leaving them, adding to Ike's stress and worry at becoming the new commander. This stress had coupled with the grief from his father's death to give him many horrible sleepless nights. Soren, who had sat by Ike on those torturous nights, could not bring himself to forgive Shinon. He could at least apologise like Gatrie had done. But of course Shinon would never do it. The fact he was in such a bad mood, and drunk, when it was only approaching midday, also attested to that fact.

"Y'know I preferred you when you were..._this..._ small..." Shinon rambled. He had a hand somewhere near his thighs, but he wasn't standing up very well so the level kept moving by several inches up and down.

"I had _no_ idea why Com..Commander Greil let you in...All you'do... cling onto...Ike... at least...at least you didn't...open your...damn mouth..." Soren scowled at him.

"I don't know why Commander Greil let you stay if he knew about your problem," Soren eyed the jar of mead that rested in Shinon's other hand.

"PROBLEM? Who...who has _problems_...?" Shinon collapsed backwards onto a pile of crates, Soren inwardly found himself wishing it had been a rack of spears instead.

"You know who's got PROBLEMS?" slurred Shinon, "That...that...IKE! The whelp...whelp thinks he's our...our commander...! But he's not Greil...he's not Greil... Goddess I hate him..." He drank heavily as Soren glared at him in distaste.

"And you're sharing a tent with 'im!" Shinon shouted, " Have you screwed yet? You're always follow..following him... _I_ _bet_..._bet that you_..." Soren had most definitely heard enough. He turned on his heel and simply walked away, ignoring the crude remarks that Shinon shouted after him for the whole camp to hear. However he wasn't merely running away. He headed straight for Shinon's tent.

He had noticed, and Shinon was probably too drunk to do so, that he had left his bow and quiver behind in his tent. And if Shinon was still the Shinon that the Greil Mercenaries had always known, he would have his secret flask stowed away in his quiver. He entered the tent, relieved that Gatrie wasn't present otherwise Shinon's tent-mate would ask some very strange questions that could ruin Soren's plan.

* * *

><p>Soren couldn't help but look around at circular area with revulsion. It stank in here! How could Gatrie and Shinon bear to rest in this place? It smelt like soiled laundry and stale drink. Had they not heard of washing their clothes? Had they not heard of tidying their bedrolls up after they woke up in the morning? Soren customarily shared with Ike and he had conditioned his commander into being grateful for the necessities he had, and how to treat them properly. Soren had always kept good care of the bare essentials, because he hadn't had anything of the sort whilst growing up. In his mind, people like Shinon and Gatrie, who had been lucky enough to have them all their lives, should definitely be a lot more grateful for it. But according to the state of their tent, they evidently weren't.<p>

He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he tried to locate the quiver. He discovered it propped up at the side and careful lifted the arrows from it and took the little leather-covered flask from the very bottom. Perfect. He then exited the disgrace of a dwelling and made his way forwards, skirting between tents whose flaps waved with the wind and creaked on their ropes as the chilled Daein wind made to dislodge them from their pitches. He hurried towards the training area where he knew his target would be working hard to impress any possible female sparring partners. He never would usually request a task such as this to be done, however Shinon needed to be put in his place if he ever became a functional part of this army.

"Boyd," he said, as said man swung his axe into a tree quite by accident. He had been aiming for Mia who was standing a few feet before him. However she had backed him close to a tree, he had swung his arm back ready to strike and the axe had dug its way through bark and wood.

"What have I done now?" Boyd moaned as Mia laughed at his mishap. Soren held up the flask for him to see.

"This is Shinon's," he informed the warrior, "I would like you tip away the contents, and then to fill it with something vile and inexpensive. Understand?" Boyd looked at the flask in his hands.

"Isn't that Shinon's secret flask, the one he keeps it in his quiver?"

"It's not so much of a secret then, but yes," said Soren, "And he has made the mistake of cursing the Commander, insulting myself, and has come up with crude and absurd notions about the nature of my and Ike's friendship." Boyd's eyes widened at Soren's explanation and he suddenly laughed.

"So you want revenge by playing a prank on him? Wow, way to go Soren! You've suddenly become a normal person like the rest of us!"

"I wouldn't count on it being a permanent change," Soren replied curtly, "I merely wish to put him in his rightful place in the ranks of our army, and perhaps prevent him drinking for a little while." Boyd eagerly stepped forwards and took the flask from him.

"Well, I've wanted to get Shinon for something forever, so...yeah, I've got something really vile and it doesn't cost a piece!" Soren knew he really should ask what this substance was going to be but then suddenly decided that he didn't care.

"Well place the flask back in Shinon's tent when you've finished," he instructed, "I expect we will see the results of this soon." Boyd just grinned and nodded.

* * *

><p>That evening, it turned out Soren's list of things to do had been increased treble fold. Had no one kept their weapons in good shape whilst in Begnion? Did they really have to make so many replacements? He poured over his extensive list whilst sitting cross legged at the small table that had been put in their tent for uses just like this one. He had spread the lists all over the table, only leaving a small space for his plate of food, which he hadn't even touched yet. He looked through the lists to see whether any of the potentially breaking weapons were valuable enough for him to consider using the Hammerne staff on them. Perhaps Oscar's silver lance, they had only got that one from the fact they raided an armoury and found it. Soren shuddered to think how much a silver lance would cost to actually replace. Of course, eventually, they would all require silver weapons as they were by no doubt the best in battle. However they needed to save money for when that happened, not squander it all now.<p>

He scribbled out some of the notes on one of the lists. There fifteen uses left in that Heal staff so Mist was going to use it until it broke. Then he'd get her a new one, it wasn't likely she was going to be desperately healing in the middle of a battle anyway, she mainly worked on the injured that were brought back to camp. Of course there were spare staves there.

He could hear people talking from the mess area, no doubt talking and laughing whilst eating their dinner. Soren hadn't touched his yet, even though it was Oscar who had cooked this time with some more trusted helpers. Mist hadn't touched the food today so it was bound to be quite something. Soren looked at his offending plate and pushed it to one side. He was busy. When he was finished working, he'd eat, but not a moment sooner. He turned papers, trying to find the information for the Pegasus riders but his search was interrupted by the shout of.

"WHAT DID YOU GIVE ROLF?" Soren frowned and stuck his head out of the tent to tell them he was working in here. However to his great surprise, Oscar had been the one who had shouted. Soren knew Oscar only shouted for one reason, something must have happened to his brothers.

"I didn't give him anything!" Shinon protested, "Why do you think I did anything?"

"Because Rolf utterly intoxicated and you're the only one that carries that sort of drink round with you everywhere!" Soren frowned. Oscar was right to be annoyed. Shinon really had gone too far this time.

"Well I didn't do it! How the hell could I have given him anything! I'm not allowed to bring my drink to the dinner table, that ungrateful whelp of a commander told me so!"

"Yes," Oscar replied, his voice was filled with barely-contained rage, but of course, ever the patient man, he wasn't spitting in fury like Shinon.

"Yes, but Ike has no idea about your flask does he? The one in your quiver! You have it with you right now don't you?"

"Of course I do," Shinon spat, "And I didn't give the cry-baby any of it! Look!" Soren waited as only the indistinct chattering of happy eaters filled the camp until...

"Look! Here it is! Completely full! I gave Rolf nothing! In fact I'm drinking it now, thank you very much, why would I share _my_..." There was suddenly a loud spluttering sound, then a retching and a gagging. Soren found himself waiting in great anticipation, and some annoyance. It was now obvious what had happened. Boyd had fed the previous contents of the flask, to Rolf, before filling it up with whatever vile concoction he had decided on. Now it seemed Shinon had drunk this concoction. He waited for only a few moments more, before:

"Someone's _pissed_ in my flask!" Soren stared at tent opposite his in wide eyed disbelief. Boyd... Boyd... Why had he asked Boyd? Why couldn't have he just filled the flask with something of Mist's cooking? No, he had to go and give it to Boyd who had decided relieving himself in the flask was the best option. He rolled his eyes and went back to his work. Well, it would put Shinon off drinking from his flask for a while. Boyd was going to get turned into a human pin-cushion when Shinon found out. At least it would train him on how to avoid arrows.

Soren found the piece of paper he'd been looking for and started looking at javelins. At least they were cheaper, and very effective if the wielder was skilled enough. However they did have the tendency to be destroyed by magic users, snapped in two by thunder and wind mages and burnt to a crisp by fire. They were constantly being replaced, and that was mainly because Tormod simply didn't look at who was surrounding him when he was blasting his way through the enemy with Elfire.

Soren shifted into a more comfortable sitting position as Oscar and Shinon's voices got further away, Shinon bellowing about washing his mouth out. Soren found himself taking his crystal from a pocket on his inner layer of robes and staring at it, wondering whether this stone would be any magical use in battle. He was very fortunate in the fact that no one had noticed his absences in which he had spent ridiculously talking to this rock. He was around the others so rarely in peaceful moments that his absence was never highly regarded as something unusual. He turned away from the table and noticed how light was oddly reflected off the stone's surface. He held it up to the light and it shone so bright that it almost blinded him. He hastily dropped it and moved it away from the light. This stone was magical, he could sense it when he held it tightly in his hand. Its warmth was wonderful, but unnatural.

"What is it?" he asked the stone, "And why does it react to me?"

He was almost done with his work, so he decided now was the time to prod at the stone with magic. He took a deep breath and laid the stone flat on his palm. He placed a solitary finger on top of the stone and began to whisper words in the ancient language, trying to tap into the latent magic that no doubt lay inside this mysterious gem. His initial reaction was to check whether anyone was nearby because he suddenly heard a strange scratching noise, like someone writing on thick parchment. He frowned and extended a tendril of power through his finger and straight into the stone...only to have the stone latch onto that tendril and tug the power straight from his hand.

It had absorbed his magic, and it had taken, from the feeling in his tingling finger, quite a lot of it too. However, he felt utterly fine, which was definitely unnatural if that much magic had been ripped from him! He leaned on the table and tried to sense the magic inside himself, but, it hadn't changed a bit. Then what did the stone do to him? He decided to explore that strange vat of energy inside himself, the one he could not use in normal magic. He suddenly felt nauseous and hurried from the tent to vomit into a nearby bush. Yes, ok, the stone was using that energy, the unusable energy was now being used... This stone was only getting more and more bizarre, and he had been using it as a confident! He stood shakily by the bush and then made his way back inside. He had stopped feeling ill as soon as he had dropped the stone, and strangely enough, he felt physically fine again. He was not putting any magic into that stone again! He had no idea what he was doing with it.

"And it's not like anyone is going to be able to tell me," he said, picking up the stone once more, "If it absorbs unnatural energy it must be nothing a beorc could handle. Besides, I'd only ask the commander, and he doesn't know a thing about magic." He felt stupid for talking to the stone, but he had now learned to ignore that emotion. However what he had said was true. He would not go to anyone for help in something as important as this, unless he knew he could trust them not to speak of his stone. The only person he trusted was Ike, Ike knew nothing of magic, so that was that.

"What don't I know a thing about?" Soren looked up and in a flash of blue-grey, the stone had gone.

"Making yourself known before entering," Soren replied as Ike sat down his blankets. How much had he heard? Ike gave no signs of having listened to anything beforehand. He didn't seem curious or questioning. The blue-haired Lord merely looked about and saw the papers covering the small table and the untouched plate of dinner.

"Haven't you eaten?" he asked.

"I have been working," said Soren, "I will eat when I am done," He moved back to the table again and began shuffling papers distractedly. However Ike didn't seem to be in the mood to let him argue. He sat by the table as well as held up the plate to Soren.

"Why don't you eat your dinner now, and then you'll be able to work better."

"Ike, I'm busy,"

"You need to eat,"

"Your army needs functioning weaponry to fight."

"You need energy to _function and fight_," Soren shot him a glare but it did no damage to Ike.

"I'm busy." He repeated. Ike loved his food and probably didn't understand that food was not the top priority on Soren's list. He pushed it towards Ike in the hope he'd take a shine to it and eat it.

"I could get Titania to do your work," Ike suggested, "And then you can eat and then we can go for a walk." Soren realised this was Ike's real purpose for coming back to the tent. Coming back when he could be talking to the others, giving orders, or just generally checking on people, meant he was after something. Soren had known that from the start. Asking him to go on a walk with him, meant another thing. It meant Ike wanted to talk, alone. This was likely to be important.

"Give me a few minutes, I will complete my list on the supplies we need and then we'll purchase them tomorrow." That was all the answer Ike seemed to need as he sat and waited patiently until Soren had dotted the last i, and underlined the total gold that would be spent. Happy that it was less than he had expected, he turned to Ike.

"Where do you propose to walk?"

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><p>The edge of camp seemed to be the destination of choice. It was growing dark so only the flickering orange torches, set into posts at intervals throughout the camp, were left to guide their way. The wind had picked up, causing them to gutter and flicker in turn as the wind swept past. It was cold. That was the impression Soren had got of Daein from the beginning. Cold, unwelcome, and full of enemies, maybe the weather obeyed the King's wishes as well as his subjects did. This frosty welcome was to be expected of course. However Soren evidently wasn't as cold as Ike was. The tall leader had drawn his cape round himself to protect himself from the biting breeze. Soren wished there was something he could do, but Ike had proposed this walk, and he had not stated to bring extra clothing along. Soren felt almost bad that he was using his secret crystal as a hand warmer, grasping it tightly between both his palms. Its warmth was very useful now, even if the magic it was generated from was bizarre.<p>

Ike shivered beside him but kept on walking determinately, apparently interested in the rather morose Daein countryside. It was all bleak and dark, a few sparse trees provided some silhouettes for the peeping moon, which was about to slide completely from view behind the shifting moody clouds. Their journey had been silent so far and Soren couldn't help but find it a little disconcerting. They had not come out to admire the countryside, Soren knew that much, so what did Ike want?

"Do you have a second, Soren?" Soren blinked at him. Of course he had a second, he had agreed to go on this walk hadn't he? However Ike seemed nervous about something. No, not nervous, _cautious_... Why?

"What is it?" Soren replied, his tone softer than it had been previously. Perhaps it was from tiredness, or perhaps the tremor it had received due to the cold had obscured all harshness. Soren was too interested in what Ike had to say to really mind.

" Well..." Ike began, "Well I was wondering... is something the matter? What's wrong? You've been quiet and moody for days. What's going on?" Soren's eyes widened by a fraction, he couldn't allow his shock to wholly show. What did Ike know? This must be the reason Ike had brought him out here for a walk. They were here because Ike thought something was wrong with him! What had he seen? What had he heard? Had he been listening to him talking to the stone and thought he was talking to himself? Did Ike think he was mad? Then again, he had been disappearing more often recently, he had thought no one would notice. Ike evidently had. Ike was generally the only one who cared anyway... But Ike was expecting a reply from him. What was he going to say?

" Um... Well, it's..." Ike was looking at him with concern in his deep blue eyes and suddenly Soren felt very small again. He felt as if Ike was the young curious boy who was trying to guess his birthday again, and Soren trying to think of an excuse for not having one. Back then he couldn't physically speak very well. Now he had something of a mental block.

"Yes?" Ike pressed, curiously. Now he definitely seemed to believe something was wrong with Soren. The sage hastily said,

"It's nothing." But Ike didn't seem to believe him. There was an almost innocent caring curiosity in his eyes, something that Soren recognised immediately as something more commonly found with Mist. Well, they were siblings and there were bound to be some similarities. He was hopefully nothing like his family ... not that he knew who they were, not that Ike did either. He knew who his family is. His family loved him, despite their tragic past and hardships.

"You've never worried about who you are," he suddenly found himself saying, "Have you? Your family? Where you came from?" Ike looked taken aback by the unexpected question, but he answered honestly nevertheless.

"Who I am...?" he replied, puzzled, "Well, not really... No... I guess I don't understand what you're getting at...But I had a father and a mother. I don't remember much about her, but otherwise... no complaints." Soren gave a small nod. He was right, not that he hadn't already known Ike was a very family orientated man.. . but he also knew it was something he would never be able to understand.

"It must be... nice to have loving parents," Soren replied, looking at his boots, he couldn't meet Ike's curious gaze, "You need people to experience your childhood. To help shape the person you will become." He could feel Ike's gaze burning into his forehead, but he kept looking down and continued:

" Without an adult around to affirm and support them, a child can't know which path to take. Or who he really is..." He dared glance up and saw Ike looked quite taken-aback.

"Don't you have any memory of your parents?" He asked, putting a hand on Soren's shoulder. Soren flinched from surprise but allowed him to keep it there. His grip tightened on his stone as he couldn't help but feel awkward under Ike's soft and too-friendly gaze.

"No," he found himself replying, "The woman who raised me was not my birth mother. And she wasn't all that fond of me, anyway..." His breath hitched in his chest painfully, he suddenly felt as if he had swallowed something heavy, like a particularly malformed piece of Mist's cooking. Now it was sticking in his throat.

" My...my earliest memories are of her saying, "_Why me_?", "_The world isn't fair_!" or "_Stay away from me, child_!" No love. No affection. She took care of me out of some sense of duty that she didn't really possess..." He lowered his head even further, his hair obscuring his face so Ike couldn't see his face. He was trembling, he could feel it, but he hoped Ike couldn't see it. Ike wasn't saying anything at all, and the silence was stretching on and on. The lump in his throat as getting more painful, he had to speak...

"When I was about four, a nearby sage came by and asked to take me in. He said I possessed rare magical talent. I remember the day clearly." He took a deep breath and just about managed to compose himself enough to look up at Ike's kind eyes. He kept on talking. He didn't give Ike the chance to give sympathy. He didn't want it. He didn't deserve any. Ike would never understand, and if he did, who knew whether Ike would want him around anymore, let alone give him something as patronising as sympathy!

" My caretaker was delighted to give me up, " he continued, his voice returning to full strength "In fact, she seemed almost delirious with pleasure. Smiling like a madwoman as she handed me over... The sage even gave her gold as compensation. Not that it was necessary."

"Oh, Soren..." Ike sounded as if he was in pain, he was shocked and breathless " Soren, I had no idea..." He sounded sympathetic and Soren knew he had to stop him there, before Ike's kindness tore him into two. The only thing Soren could think of doing was just continuing with the awful truth.

"The sage was old, and knew that death would soon come for him. His only goal was to teach his art to an apprentice. As time was short, he put me through terribly rigorous magic training. We worked day and night, without cease. I didn't even have time to think about who I really was. But it was still a better life than I had ever known. When the sage died two years later, I had acquired much magical skill. Perhaps too much for a child of my age..." Ike was silent, staring at him as if seeing him in an entirely new light.

"At any rate, once I had eaten all of the food in the sage's hovel, I left and walked for days to find help. Upon reaching civilization, I came to another grim realization... I couldn't speak... Not a word..."

"Soren..." Ike breathed, he was standing there, seemingly forgetting about the cold as his arms hung by his sides, his cape flapped forlornly with the wind. He was looking at Soren, watching him intently, and yet, Soren kept speaking.

"I could read and write better than most of the villagers. And I could understand what they said. I just couldn't talk. I couldn't help it. The woman and the sage both used to hurl words at me. Unkind words, usually. But I never needed to answer, so..."

"Soren!" Ike repeated, interrupting him mid-sentence and causing him to jump at his raised tone. Soren immediately snapped out of his long-winded confession and suddenly felt immensely stupid for admitting such personal details about himself in front of the man who meant the most to him. What was he thinking? Was he secretly chasing after sympathy? When had he ever needed that! Sympathy was just soft words, most of the time the speaker never meant them anyway.

"Soren!" Ike said again.

"Huh?" Soren felt foolish now, "Oh... I apologise, Ike. I should not have made you listen to such _nonsense_...I'll..." He made to turn back, to walk back to their tent, but Ike stopped him, grabbing onto his arm to stop him fleeing.

"Soren, it's not nonsense! It's awful! It's the most terrible thing I've ever heard! " His eyes widened as Ike held him in place, not letting go, not letting him escape. Soren hated it, he was trapped, and now Ike was going to be sympathetic and it was going to hurt so much...

"Where did this happen? Was it in Begnion?" Ike exclaimed, completely oblivious to the expression of pain that had flickered through Soren's eyes.

"No..." the mage replied, the lump in his throat had returned and despite the fact his mind was screaming at him to just get the hell out of there, he miraculously kept talking.

" But, there's more. I haven't told you... About my parents..." The P-word instantly kicked some sense back into him. He wrenched his arm free and turned to go.

"No, that's enough. I'm sorry. Excuse me... " He spoke so quickly that Ike was still trying to work out what he'd said just as the sage sprinted off into the darkness. Soren ran, his robes flapping behind him. He could hear Ike calling after him, heard him start to run as well.

"Wait, Soren? Soren!... Blast!" Soren turned a corner and hurtled towards the nearest supply tent. He couldn't go back to their shared tent. Too much sympathy and too many questions to answer! He curled up at the back of the supply tent, holding the crystal close to him.

"I'm...I'm such a fool!" he choked out, "Such an idiot! And now he's going to try to be kind and caring! I don't deserve his kindness. I don't deserve any sympathy. Who needs sympathy? I...I have survived so long without it, so..so I..." He lay down on the hard floor, surrounded by crates and bags. He had slept in a lot worse places, so he decided this would be fine as a sleeping area. However, sleep could not come once to him that night. Red eyes stared at the canvas ceiling until dawn. The only consoling thought in his mind was this.

_Well at least I didn't do something as idiotic as crying._


	4. Wishful Thinking

**AN: Thank you for your wonderful feedback! Having such a positive reaction really spurs me on to keep writing! This has actually become my fasted updating story! (I am writing quite a few stories on the go at the moment)**

**A quick explanation for you. Most chapters should be in the format I've used so far, a mostly Soren chapter with a part for Kurthnaga at the end. However last chapter got far too long, and I inended to have a long Kurthnaga part as well, so I separated them into two chapters. It probably won't happen again.**

**Also I've invented a word which Kurth is going to use. The word is 'inlagune', which is the laguz version for 'inhumane'. I just thought it was a good idea. So here is Kurth's chapter, in which we will find out his master theory!**

**Please enjoy and please review!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Wishful Thinking<strong>

"Your highness, are you quite alright?" Kurthnaga jolted and then realised that his sleeve was trailing in his soup and immediately pulled it out the way. He looked about to see if anyone else had noticed but saw his father was resolutely scowling at the table, and the only one who was paying him any attention was Gareth. He sent the red dragon a weak smile and then went back to staring at the vile bright red concoction that the cooks had proclaimed to be soup. Kurthnaga swilled his spoon about in the so-called soup as his father ate it without complaint.

His father sat at the other end of the very expansive dining room as far from his youngest son as it was possible to be. Gareth had chosen to sit next to Kurthnaga however, something he was grateful for. At various points they both glanced at the King who merely continued reading a scroll as he ate, he was definitely not paying a second's attention to his youngest child.

Kurthnaga sighed as his gaze automatically flickered from his father's serious expression to the much brighter, and much happier, expression in the great painting that stood in pride of place on the opposite wall. It was a family portrait, so incredibly old that Kurthnaga couldn't even remember when it was painted. That was understandable however. He had been but a hatchling when it had been painted, that was always why it had fascinated him, because he couldn't remember it.

However, every time he stared at the clustered family in the picture he could only bite his lip to stop himself wondering aloud why it had all gone wrong. The picture showed his father and mother, sitting beside each other on splendid stone thrones. He had always been told his mother was amazingly beautiful, and the picture showed she was, a fair white dragon unlike the rest of her black dragon family. Kurthnaga's brother knelt by his father's knee looking only a hundred or so years old, according to Gareth, a beorc would think he was only fifteen years old. He was allowed to be by his father of course, as the crown prince that was his duty, even at a hundred years old.

Their mother was keeping hold of a young sulky Almedha who was around fifty years younger than her brother. Her dress was typical of the time, overly-decadent, trimmed with gold, all the luxuries of a princess who would never receive the throne but made the best of what she had. Of course Almedha had expected the best too. She was pouting in the picture as her mother kept a hand firmly on her shoulder. She was obviously finding it hard to stay absolutely still for the artist.

Kurthnaga looked for himself last of all. A bundle of black cloths alongside huge red eyes, just visible under a scraggily mop of green-black hair. He was only a baby in this picture and as it was the only family portrait they had, he had the suspicious that was all he'd ever be remembered as. The baby of the family. He was treated like it anyway.

"Are you sure you are alright?" He turned to Gareth who he saw was avoiding the soup too.

"I'm fine," he said, "My mind just isn't on...whatever this is," He took a spoonful of the soup and dropped it back into the bowl, it made a horrible noise that resembled a gory 'splut'. Kurthnaga wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"It's parsley and sheep's' blood soup," said Gareth, also sounding revolted, "Apparently its medicinal and calms down restlessness... However I don't believe you're preoccupied with the eating arrangements."

"No..." said Kurthnaga, "I..." He sighed and got to his feet. His father didn't notice their movement as he gestured for Gareth to follow him and they got to their feet. They exited the brightly lit dining room for the shady corridors beyond, Kurthnaga wordlessly leading the way back to his room, not caring that one of his sleeves was dripping sheep's' blood soup on the scrupulously clean stone floor.

He headed back to his room as Gareth stomped along behind him; unable to keep up fully with Kurthnaga's nimble footed pace. After about five minutes of walking, they entered the prince's room and Kurthnaga immediately hurried over to his desk to pass Gareth two sheets of parchment where the ink had only just stopped glistening.

"Read this and learn the truth about our poor enslaved brother," he said, his voice tremulous, "It's...It's the most terrible thing I have ever heard!" He couldn't stand still as Gareth slowly read his way down the parchment and as soon as the advisor had finished, he asked.

"So, what do you think? I heard it all from him! I cannot believe such...such abominations can happen in the outside world!" Gareth sighed as he looked at the prince's almost child-like expression of distress. Regardless of his years, the prince was very young compared to most in the Goldoan court. Many of the courtesans and advisors had been around when the King had been involved in the great battle against the dark goddess. There was undoubtedly a lot the young prince didn't know about the outside world, having seen hardly any of it. Gareth knew this lost Goldoan must have caught the prince's overly-active imagination with full force. The prince looked practically heart-broken at his discovering of such cruelty, whilst Gareth knew full well that the prince's own father and left all the laguz slaves to suffer and die.

"I have completed my master theory," said Kurthnaga, sitting on his bed and inviting Gareth to take his desk chair, "After all I have heard I have no doubts about the suffering of our lost kin! Please listen, I want someone else to understand." Gareth nodded patiently and waited for the prince to begin. Kurthnaga took a deep breath.

"Our lost brother evidently lost his parents very young, it's obvious from the fact he was raised by a completely different woman, and has no recollection of them. Children are valued so highly in Goldoa that his parents would never have abandoned him, it's unthinkable! They must have died, most likely hunted or murdered... The young dragon was taken in by a beorc woman who cared for him because he was a helpless child, but hated him because he was a laguz. Therefore he was raised whilst beaten and abused as the woman's slave, to be sold on as soon as she could sell him."

"So a sage bought him," said Gareth, remembering the transcript Kurthnaga had just shown him.

"Yes, and the sage didn't realise he was a laguz, so trained him in magic. I went to the royal library and found out the most magical laguz races, the Herons and the Dragons, are capable of becoming mages! The magical spirits feed of the innate boon or bloodlust all dragons have, enabling them to cast powerful enchantments. And so our enslaved brother was forced to become a powerful mage, making him extraordinarily talented on top of his laguz abilities!"

"So if he was so powerful, how did he not find his way home?" asked Gareth, not wanting to ruin Kurthnaga's wonderful romanticised theory, but he had to point out this flaw.

"Because he's never seen his home," said Kurthnaga, "How will he know which way to go? How will he know we'd accept him back? He's been abused all his life, and no doubt rejected and scorned for what he is! He must not trust anyone, or least is incredibly wary of all. Would he go to a foreign land full of complete strangers?"

"You have a point," Gareth could tell Kurthnaga had thought this through. He had been hiding in his room for a few weeks now, so he must have quite a bit of information to go by. Gareth had only just got him to dine with his father, and though reluctant at first, when Gareth had told him that his father had personally asked where the young prince was, Kurthnaga had been encouraged to come.

Gareth hadn't been entirely truthful; his father hadn't directly asked for Kurthnaga to attend this meal, he had asked why Kurthnaga wasn't attending meals in general. He made no sign he was inviting his son anywhere, he was just wondering why his hundreds upon hundreds of years of routine had been altered. The routine caused by complete isolation. There was never any trouble in Goldoa, trouble only came if you involved yourself with other countries. The fact they couldn't even go searching after their own lost Prince and Princess anymore was the epitome of isolation...

And did Gareth approve of Goldoa's isolation?

It wasn't his duty to say, and neither was it Kurthnaga's. Gareth focussed his thoughts back on the prince, who was ready to continue with his 'master theory'.

"I don't know how these beorc can justify this behaviour in their minds!" proclaimed Kurthnaga, eyes wide and tone outraged. His expression was so passionate and earnest that Gareth felt that it would be almost cruel to remind the prince that it was his own father who had condemned all laguz slaves to their miserable fates.

"It's atrocious!" Kurthnaga continued, "It's horrible! It's inlagune! At...at least our poor lost brother has found some little kindness with his newest master!" Gareth hastily latched onto this comment to stop Kurthnaga working himself up into a fit about the horrible nature of a slave's existence. The King would not be happy if his last child decided to go tearing off into the wide world as well.

"What is his newest master like?" Gareth asked, hoping more explanation of his 'master theory' would calm the prince down.

"He is a military commander in Begnion," said Kurthnaga, still shaking with shock and outrage, "He's evidently of a very high rank, a very powerful beorc, he'd have to be to get away with having a slave! No doubt, after our lost brother escaped the sage, he was caught by a slave-seller in his bid for freedom, and then sold to this man!" It seemed he had calmed down enough to sit back down again, having risen with his proclamation of how unfair his discovery's situation was.

"Our lost brother calls this new master, 'General, or the 'Commander', so evidently he is of very high military status. However he also calls the commander by his real name, which is Ike. I don't know how common a beorc name that is, so I can't tell whether that is significant. Despite his situation, our lost brother seems to have a lot of respect for his latest master, and my theory is that General Ike is the first person to ever treat him with a remote amount of kindness. The fact he calls him by the first name when they are merely slave and master is clue enough to that! General Ike must respect that despite the fact beorc hate laguz our lost brother is both clever and powerful, and the General seems to have given him a powerful position in his household. A butler or at least a very high servant's role. That seems to be likely as he always seems to talk of organising things for his master."

"Is he any better there though?" Gareth asked sceptically. Kurthnaga shook his head.

"General Ike seems to be nice to him, but it is clear the other member of staff in the General's household hate him and resent that fact he's obtained such a high position. Just in passing comments he talks of people avoiding him because of what he is. People who say horrible vulgar things about him. The best treatment he gets are from those who are scared of him. General Ike seems to have a beorc cook in his service, called...Oliver? Oscar? Something similar. Our lost brother comments on how the cook never likes to linger too near him. Also there's a girl who does the laundry he keeps mentioning who is mostly wary of him. Also there is a beorc man who apparently believes the General is keeping our lost brother as a whore, apparently he is prone to drinking and is absolutely vile. The General no doubt has a very large household if he's so powerful. He also has other laguz slaves, Gallians it seems, they all hate the poor Goldoan in their midst as well..." Kurthnaga sighed.

"And before you say so Gareth, I know there is no chance my father will let me out the castle to go and rescue him."

"You took the words right out my mouth," said Gareth, somewhat sternly. Of course he felt very sorry for the poor enslaved Goldoan in Begnion, but orders from the King were, well, orders. After they had lost Almedha and Rajajon, no one was going to let Prince Kurthnaga fly off on his own. And add to that fact that the prince wasn't allowed to leave the castle for twenty years, also made it even more unlikely that Kurthnaga would be saving anyone any time soon.

"I want to do something but all I can do is listening to this poor man's woes like a person listening to a tragic play!" Kurthnaga groaned, "How do we know when this General will get bored of him and sell him on again? I heard him cry! His voice was shaking so much he must have been crying! But there's absolutely nothing we can do!"

"Correct," said Gareth brutally, "Don't do anything stupid you highness, there's no way you can understand what's going on in the wide world. You've never even left Goldoa, it's too dangerous and your father forbids it."

"I know," said Kurthnaga in a tone similar to that of a moody adolescent, "I know already..." However he knew something else as well. As Gareth got up and excused himself Kurthnaga came up with a brilliant idea. Sure, he'd never left Goldoa, sure, he'd never get to leave Goldoa and no other dragon would ever do the same... But there was one dragon that had already gone. He had left quite a while ago and hadn't been seen ever since. He must know everything about the outside world! It wasn't dangerous and forbidden to him! Kurthnaga couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before, it was just so obvious!

Nasir!

Nasir would find their lost brother for him and he would never have to leave the country at all! It was perfect! He hastily began his searching for a newer sending stone, hoping beyond hope, that Nasir still had his.


	5. Markedly

**AN: Thank you to Purple Pallbearer and Beta the Second who reviewed Chapter Four!**

**My apologies for this late update, the usual bane –college- has affected all my updates, so I am now working on a more-reviews, faster-updates policy to make sure I'm giving people what they really want to read. In concerns to this story, evidently people weren't so keen on Kurth's chapter, but don't worry, the usual layout goes back to normal this chapter! **

**We've started to tread slightly from the canon this chapter as I've added another Shinon scene (Shinon becomes very important later) and also a newer character who is there to put some pressure on the tetchy mage! The plot will definitely start to skew when we get to Radiant Dawn and Kurthnaga takes flight, but for now, please enjoy, and please REVIEW!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Markedly<strong>

On the surface, it probably seemed he was being very childish. The truth, was that he was nothing of the sort. So, he had not returned to Ike's tent since the incident where he had revealed far too much of himself. So, he had taken residence in a hidden corner of various supply tents every time they had made camp. So, he spoke to Ike very formally and spent as little time with him as possible. But that wasn't immature in the slightest! He was sensibly keeping himself busy now they were in Daein. Who knew, they could be ambushed by the enemy at any moment! Not only that, the Crow King was putting his feet where they shouldn't be at the moment, so it was only a matter of time before they caught up with him. Therefore as the army's tactician, Soren needed to think of every single possibility that lay ahead of them, be it a plan for a simple ambush, or how to combat the King of all Crows. That was what currently occupied all his thoughts...well, the thoughts that were not focussed on hiding from Ike, not that he was hiding.

His quill scratched against his latest plan. It covered the scenario that King Naesala would have some form of long ranged attack alongside his own laguz-traits, which would of course be very powerful due to his role as King. Soren couldn't help but weigh up the benefits and disadvantages of having the strongest member of the country as their ruler. Of course, the strongest may not be the most intelligent, but that hadn't seemed to be a problem so far as all the kings they had seen, seemed to be both strong, and intelligent.

The most obvious benefit of course would be that the King could actually travel to the battlefield and fight for his country…unlike the petty human, no _beorc,_ rulers who sat by with the small children combing their hair and feeding the army's fruit supplies to the spare mounts instead of actually doing anything useful! They were fighting for her country! She could at least spend the ridiculous amount of time she spent fawning over Ike doing something productive. Like learning how to use a lance perhaps! He scratched out a line of writing that he wasn't quite happy with and turned the page over to plan for a new eventuality, this time, whether they were forced to bring Captain Tanith's reinforcements with them. There were bound to be ballistae because Daein was defending itself now, and the greatest problem with that was the fact that Pegasus mounts and ballistae fire really did not mix well.

He suddenly frowned at the sound of footsteps, and then voices. There were two distinct sounds, one was cold and smooth, and the other had a slight rumble under her clear tone, typically cattish, almost like an underlying purr. Soren stiffened in his position from in the very centre of a circle of crates outside a dilapidated supply tent. Soren recognised the voices but found himself surprised by the combination. Lethe and Nasir? It seemed unlikely to him, but they must have a purpose to be this quiet area of camp, quite far from their human allies… Soren ducked below the crates and peered at them as they finally came into view. Then he finally caught their voices.

"So Ranulf can still wait, we haven't quite confirmed…" Nasir said in a hushed tone that conveyed their need for absolute secrecy. Soren scowled. He had known for a while that Nasir's intentions were less than satisfactory. He had had his suspicions for a while now. Nasir had appeared and disappeared too mysteriously too often and if anyone was going to be Daein's spy in the army's ranks, it was going to be Nasir.

That raised more questions than it answered however.

It was clear to the trained eye, to see what Nasir _was_. Soren had read widely, especially in concerns to discovering his own heritage, and now he could spot someone of dragon blood without even a second's thought. So why would a Goldoan ally himself with Daein? Nasir had to have a motive but Soren couldn't work out what that was. On the other hand, now he was talking secretly with a Gallian. Soren knew that the Gallians would have an interest in the war, how could they not since they had taken refuge in their halls? However, why would a Goldoan ally themselves with Gallia either? They were both laguz nations and neighbours, so it was more likely than Daein, but Goldoa had isolated themselves for hundreds of years. Yet here Nasir was.

Soren's conclusion was this: Nasir was a triple agent. He worked for the army led by Ike for convenience, helped them travel, helped them set up camp, just to win their positive opinions. However he was passing information to both Daein and Gallia, to keep Gallia informed on the war (Gallia was not an enemy nation so Soren was wary on pining bad motives upon them, however much he disliked those sub-humans.) and to Daein, which was traitorous and Soren wasn't sure why he did it. He had of course accosted Nasir about these matters and all that traitorous lizard had done was threaten that he'd reveal Soren's secret if Soren revealed his. It was childish blackmail, but it had worked. If Nasir was exposed he'd be kept alive for interrogation and then quickly disposed of if it was deemed necessary. If Soren was exposed for what he was, he would not doubt be beaten out of the camp, left to wander the Daein country alone, and would no doubt die slowly and painfully out in the icy plains. Soren would come off worse in any pseudo-valiant intent to expose Nasir, so his own desire for self-preservation decreed Nasir would carry on blameless. This frustrated him immensely.

Suddenly Nasir and Lethe stopped in their talks of Gallian reports and then stopped walking. Soren fidgeted, careful not to make a sound but his position was getting incredibly uncomfortable. The dragon and the cat stood still for a moment until:

"Do you smell that?" Lethe hissed, her ears twitching as she glanced around with a narrowed gaze.

"Undoubtedly not as well as you can, but yes," Nasir replied. Soren rolled his eyes. No wonder he and Lethe managed to get along, mere flattery was enough to abate that reckless cat.

"And there's more than one of them," Lethe spat in disgust, "A concentration of bad blood…" More than one of them? Soren glanced about, how could there be another one of…what he was… around here? He was the only one in this area apart from those revolted laguz. He glanced around and suddenly a flash of green darted into the circular area. Lethe and Nasir eyed the swordsman, who was once again demonstrating his uncanny ability to pop up out of nowhere. Somehow Soren wasn't that surprised that Stephan, the sandy swordsman who often trained with Ike, was like him. He spoke nothing of his past which would automatically alert anyone of any sense that he was hiding something. But still, Soren couldn't really think of any other reason for his secrecy, he somehow, just knew…

Stephan put one hand on his hip and the other at the hilt of his Vague Katti.

"Well I can smell you too. Now why don't you walk along and continue rehearsing your little notes for the King of Gallia? I'm sure the old lion doesn't want to be kept waiting," Lethe hissed loudly.

"You dare spy on us Parentless?"

"Yes," said Stephan casually, sitting on top of a crate right behind Soren. There was no doubt in the sage's head that cocky green-haired man knew he was there. How could he not? He was crouching right in front of him!

Lethe hissed and turned back, tail swishing in agitation. Stephan sat lazily on top of the crate until the two laguz had departed, back the way they came.

"Need some help?" Stephan offered the mage on the floor, "I thought the mighty tactician would know hiding and cowering from allied laguz is beyond anyone's dignity." Soren bristled and hastily got to his feet. Stephan had what he thought to be an all-knowing smile on his face. As if he could possibly know the workings of Soren's mind! That was absurd!

"I was spying on them," Soren replied stiffly, "If they hadn't smelt you there wouldn't have been any problems and I would have been able to provide valuable information."

"You mean smelt _us_," said Stephan, as Soren scooped up his papers and tucked them inside his Elwind tome. He turned to the swordsman.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stephan just laughed at that.

"You're making Ike miserable you know, by avoiding him," Stephan continued conversationally, "He spends his time searching for you when he should be making preparations. You've distracted our Commander, and a distracted Commander is never a very good one."

"I have seen him when I give reports," said Soren, "I have just been very busy. There is no reason to believe I have been avoiding him."

"He believes you are," Stephan said pointedly, "Something about confessing too much of yourself, opening up to him?" He laughed.

"Let me guess, you almost revealed what you are."

"Once again, I have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Of course you do. You're not going to be able to keep it hidden forever, especially with so many laguz about. Remember my previous offer? Of course it still stands."

Soren couldn't believe the nerve of this man! How could he waltz up to someone and acknowledge his shameful heritage like that! How could he answer to the title of Parentless? How could he be so open to the idea that he was one of the most despised beings on the continent! Of course he remembered Stephan's 'offer'. It was a ridiculous dream of running away to the desert of all places, because apparently Stephan was building a civilisation, just for their kind. The notion was as absurd as it was farfetched. Also, when this man could lecture him was when he had earned the right to! He only worked for Ike. Ike could lecture him all he wanted (though he never did, it was Soren's job to lecture Ike) and Soren wouldn't complain…that much. He scowled at the swordsman and turned to walk away from him. However, Stephan wasn't relenting in his aim to annoy Soren to the point he snapped.

"However much you treasure the Commander, he'll get rid of you as soon as he find out…." Soren turned on his heel and barked at him:

"Would you please leave or I will make short work of your face with a blast of _Elfire_!"

"Oh? Why fire?"

Soren blinked at him, not letting his sudden surprise at the unexpected question show on his face. Stephan smirked and leant back confidently on one of the nearby crates. He looked like a Gallian who'd received his wages in cream - smug, and immensely satisfied. Stephan most definitely knew he had stumped the mage, that he had gained an unavoidable victory. Soren readily decided there and then, that he really did hate him.

"So, why fire?" Stephan repeated, "You're a wind mage aren't you? Why didn't you automatically say wind?" Soren didn't say anything. He was expecting his mind to come up some witty retort but, no, it was coming up completely and utterly blank. Why had he said fire? Why hadn't he said wind? Why was Stephan being so aggravatingly smug about this as if he knew everything that Soren didn't, and was now laughing at him whilst he mentally floundered for an answer? Soren fixed him with one of his best death glares but it seemed to have no effect on the sandy swordsman whatsoever.

"How did you know I would be weakest to fire?" Stephan continued, his tone was not gleeful, despite his chuckling, but Soren found his words incredibly patronising. How could he stand there, pretending he knew things that Soren didn't! This brash green-haired stranger knew nothing about him!

"And which magic are you weakest at?" Stephan asked him, "Well, what is it?"

"Thunder magic," Soren said, through gritted teeth. Of course he knew what Stephan was getting at, now. However he wasn't going to admit it for love or money (not that he particularly needed either of those things right now). Stephan must know he knew, but he wasn't relenting.

"In all my experience I have never met one of us, who cannot recognise another," said Stephan, boldly taking a step towards the irate mage, "You knew what I was, I know what you are, why don't we just..." Soren had had quite enough.

"I am going to look for the Commander!" He proclaimed loudly before marching out the supply space. Stephan merely chuckled at him as he stormed furiously away.

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><p>"Soren?" The mage was true to his words. After an hour long conversation with an inanimate object in a supply tent, he had become restless and once again felt foolish for talking to a crystal, especially for such a long time. He had ended his one-sided 'conversation' with a fierce exclamation of how dare Stephan make proclamations of what he was, and then stuffed the stone into a pocket in his robes and walked off to find his Commander.<p>

His temper mellowed on the journey through camp. Everything about him was so very normal and incredibly unsuspicious. Boyd had fallen asleep under a tree and Rolf and Mist were taking turns to try and flick twigs into his slightly-open mouth. Mia was trying to make Ilyana into her greatest rival but Ilyana was only really interested in the sandwich that Mia was brandishing about in a frenzied fashion. Soren passed Oscar and Kieran, who were looking at the Pegasus horses that were putting their own mounts to shame with their elegance. Soren cringed as he saw Kieran proclaim that he was going to prove he could master these winged ponies and Oscar instantly tried to pull him away from any foolhardy attempts that would no doubt end up with him getting kicked in the head. Oscar gently managed to tug himself away after saying something Soren didn't quite catch. Kieran shut up surprisingly quickly and they both hurried off elsewhere. He caught sight of Nephenee talking to one of the shop-keeping twins as he searched for the meeting tent, he didn't bother to listen to her negotiations as he pushed past the tent flap and immediately found his Commander.

Ike was talking to Gatrie and Shinon, and it seemed he was trying to scold them. This was of course, hard. Gatrie's casual disregard and Shinon's plain arrogance, plus their superiority in years, made it incredibly hard for Ike to get through to them. When Soren appeared it was clear he was floundering. A few angry exclamations did nothing to ruffle the two men and as Soren listened he realised what the two had done. They were here for separate accounts of rule-breaking. Shinon was here because of the incident with Rolf and his flask, Oscar still hadn't forgiven him apparently and was sure it was his fault, and now Ike was of the same opinion. Gatrie on the other hand was being reprimanded for insulting Tanith's headstrong Pegasus-rider troop. Gatrie couldn't resist turning into a completely flirtatious idiot around women and apparently Tanith's troop had found him very offensive, not that Ike was doing a great job at getting this message through. Shinon had just told Ike that there was no way he'd listen to an ungrateful whelp like him and that he regretted ever joining this army again when Soren decided to intervene.

He cleared his throat loudly.

"I believe that everyone's interests lie in surviving this god-forsaken war," he said curtly to the assembled wrong-doers, "And if you continue with such discrepancies, you will find that simple interest a lot harder to achieve." He walked over to stand at Ike's side. Ike stared at him as Soren had appeared out of nowhere; Gatrie looked similarly surprised but Shinon just glowered. Soren hadn't really expected anything else, so dealt with the sniper first.

"If you wish to leave this company, do. You are unimportant enough not to be missed and I believe Rolf has surpassed you far enough already. Of course, with backing from the Begnion Empire and the Royal House of Crimea, all the army will of course be richly awarded, on top of the wages here. Which are better than most other mercenary companies due to the _others'_ superior skill. But that would be no skin of your teeth I am sure. "Shinon glowered and was about to yell at him when Soren interrupted once more.

"So, you could leave, or accept the commands you are given with the obedience deserved of a great military commander such as_ Lord_ Ike. Please remember who dictates your pay, position in battle and therefore overall reassurance and safety when you construct your answer to me. An apology, is what I'd prefer."

Shinon was never going to apologise and Soren knew that. However the chance was too good and he had rendered Shinon absolutely speechless with rage. Shinon glared daggers at him but Soren looked back with an unwavering scarlet gaze. Their staring contest lasted only a few minutes before Shinon turned on his heels and marched out of the tent. Soren turned to Gatrie and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry!" The large man exclaimed, looking frightened in front of the little mage, "I'm sorry, I am! I will leave the women's troop alone! I'm sorry!" Soren nodded and Gatrie hurriedly left after Shinon. Soren turned to Ike who was definitely looking suitably impressed. Ike sighed and smiled.

"What the hell would I do without you?"

"I do wonder sometimes," said Soren lightly as his Commander sat down on the nearby table and it gave an ominous creak. Ike ran a hand through his hair which looked rather dishevelled from where he had evidently been running his fingers through it quite often. Soren took a few steps forward, standing before Ike silently for a moment before saying:

"I wish to apologise for my behaviour over the last couple of…"

"You don't have to."

Soren blinked in surprise. Ike must know he had purposefully been avoiding him. He ran away from him after their last private conversation and hadn't spoken to him in a casual situation since! If that wasn't a reason to apologise Stephan must have irritated his brain out as well talking him out of his mind.

"My behaviour was inexcusable," he replied firmly, determined to apologise and not cause any more distress on Ike's part.

"It was perfectly fine," said Ike casually, "You just felt jumpy about revealing so much about yourself. I was quite impressed actually, you've made real progress if you're able to talk about yourself so much, you're usually so closed off to the world. I'm sort of proud of you."

"What?" Soren couldn't quite believe his ears, Ike was _praising_ him? This was absurd! He had caused Ike to worry! Caused his distraction! Ignored his commander's orders when Ike was calling after him on that night! He should be reprimanded like Gatrie and Shinon had, not praised as he had completed a job well done!

"I'm sort of proud of you," Ike repeated, "I can remember the time you wouldn't talk, let alone about anything other than me. You actually gave me the story of when you were a child. It's the most open you've ever been!" Soren couldn't say anything to that. Ike was right, a hundred percent correct, it had been the most open he had ever been with anyone. He regretted doing it so badly but…what was this strange warm feeling that settled in his chest at Ike's praise? Why did it feel good? Why did he want Ike to say it again? Ike wasn't even being sympathetic about what he had said; he was more impressed that Soren had actually said it, and that made Soren…strangely happy.

"I'm not going to ask you about what you said," said Ike as Soren's silence continued, "It was difficult for you to say and I'm sure you don't want me to prod at old wounds. But…" He took a deep breath.

"Soren, however terrible your past is, whatever horrors lie in your shadow… I want you to know that as long as you're with me, I'll make sure we have a better future, together. And it'll be a good one. That's a promise."

"Can you really make promises in the middle of a war?" Soren asked. His voice had fallen to almost a quiet murmur. He was so stunned that his usual whirlwind of thoughts, clever, logical, productive, all of them, had been reduced to a gentle breeze of Ike-caused numbness. He gripped his own sleeves very tightly and dared look at the stalwart commander.

"Yes, and keep them," Ike answered boldly, "Come on, I'm going to your supply tent and bring your stuff back to mine. Come on, I don't want to damage your precious books." Soren gave a little smile when the general had his back turned.

"No, my tomes would not enjoy your clumsiness," he replied, a touch of his usual cynicism returned. Ike turned round and grinned. Soren knew all had returned to normal as they departed from the meeting tent. That revealing conversation would be lost with the passing winds, he and Ike would interact as usual and…the warm feeling hadn't quite gone…but he could most definitely live with it.

* * *

><p>"Prince Kurthnaga, what are you doing?" It was a good question.<p>

Gareth had strode into his prince's room to find the two hundred year old prince lying with a quill between his teeth and both legs straight up in the air, perpendicular from the bed so it looked like he was sitting on air with the bed as his back-rest. Kurthnaga's main response was to put his legs down and then pick up a piece of parchment where ink dripped slightly down the page. It was very fresh. Gareth caught the paper and looked at the neat blurring handwriting. It was undoubtedly another transcript of the prince's fascination – the enslaved young Goldoan in Begnion. The advisor couldn't help but notice the ever-present broken stone in the prince's hand. The fascination was good for several reasons: it kept the prince occupied, it stopped him flying away from the castle as his writing desk was in his room, and it distracted him enough not to get cantankerous with his overly-brooding father.

However there were definitely some negative points about this new obsession that Gareth did not find pleasing. Kurthnaga was romanticising this new discovery past any realms of imagination Gareth thought possible of a Black Dragon. The young prince had no idea about the outside world and seeing one beorc ship certainly did not equate to worldly-wisdom. They had lost dozens of red dragons, Gareth's own blood relatives amongst them, to the hands of the Begnion slave traders and however much Gareth's blood boiled for revenge, his greatest wish was to keep the kingdom safe. By safe, he meant with a sane ruler. If the King lost his last child...his rage could wipe out the continent more violently than even the great flood did the rest of the world, so many millennia ago. He had to keep Kurthnaga from flying away if it was the last thing he did. However, if Kurthnaga's imagination continued soaring he could take flight to recover this lost 'brother', as he called them. And now...

"Gareth...I think I'm turning like my sister..." said Kurthnaga, sitting up at last.

"That is worrying," Gareth commented.

"It's so clear that our lost brother admires his master so much, yet it is like a situation out of those novels that Almedha used to gush over! He's enslaved but adores his enslaver and that notion battles with his sense and need for freedom and his apparent cynical nature of the world! This is a romance novel in the making...!"

"This someone's reality, your highness," said Gareth, somewhat sharply, "Not one of your sister's romance novels. Perhaps you should concentrate on other aspects..." He glanced at the paper, turning it over.

"Such as the Parentl..." He had evidently struck a chord for Kurthnaga suddenly spoke over him

"That parentless..." said Kurthnaga, through gritted teeth." That parentless who had the audacity to accuse one of our own brothers of being like...like that? Not only does he have to put up with the beorc prejudice and mistreatment, a horrible abusive past, and that fact he has to hide his power from the world, but he has to endure such an ignorant man claiming that he is of tainted blood! A man who can clearly not tell the difference between a brand and a draconic heritage mark!" He pointed at his own forehead and continued:

"It's despicable! He had full right to rage and storm! His fate may be bleak but at least he can never be lowered to the point of _those_ beings..." Gareth, satisfied he had distracted the prince from his romantic notions, instantly agreed.

"You are right your highness, it is a terrible injustice. One I am sure he can overcome however."

"At least he has that," said Kurthnaga, "Just that..." He trailed off into silence, a thoughtful expression on his young features. Gareth waited patiently for him to continue until:

"How long has it been since Nasir left our shores?"

"The same short time his grand-daughter went in pursuit of your brother I believe," said Gareth, slightly surprised by the change of topic but glad once again of a new distraction. "He's masquerading as a beorc ship captain last we heard,"

"I heard that too," Kurthnaga said musingly, but then he brightened, "We have no choice but to get in contact with him. He no doubt travels the world in his sea-faring business so has no problem in travelling to Begnion. I will charge him with the challenge of finding our missing brother!"

"But first you've got to find _him_," said Gareth. The flame that had lit in Kurthnaga's crimson eyes suddenly wavered slightly.

"I do," he said, "But what is a dragon without a sending stone?" He eyed a second stone which lay on his desk, shiny, new and gleaming.

"I'll find out the truth soon."


	6. False Fantasies

**AN: Thank you to YourConscienceOnMute, Zombeh Sakana, and Purple Pallbearer for reviewing!**

**I'm actually quite happy that it was pointed out that Kurthnaga is acting a bit thick at the moment because last chapter was purposefully the pinnacle of his naivety and now his romanticised theory starts to crash round his ears. Therefore Kurthnaga is the main focus of this chapter, however, he won't be getting his own chapter again. Ike's being tailed by a rather persistent woman and because it's not Aimee this time, Soren has some rather important explaining to do. **

**Please enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six: False Fantasies<strong>

"Ike, Elincia would like to talk to you in her tent,"

"Can you not see he's busy?"

"I was talking to _Ike_, Soren."

It seemed he and Titania were of two very different minds. The first irritation was that Titania should really have been at this important meeting from the very beginning, instead of turning up now because she had been mincing around that goddess-damned princess. Soren was sure the only reason Titania was with the princess was the fact Elincia wanted to use her to get close to Ike, and because Titania had once been a Royal Knight and was therefore instinctually loyal, Elincia couldn't have picked a better target. However the same fact remained. This was a very important meeting and in Soren's point of view it shouldn't be interrupted by the goddesses, let alone one love-struck princess. So the meeting should continue.

"As I was saying, all the knights are of the opinion horses do not best flourish on grass alone, so looking into a cheap source of fruit and vegetables would not only benefit our food supplies but also the welfare of the moun..."

Titania seemed to feel it was necessary to interrupt him again. Soren thought she should really appreciate what he was saying about horses for she was a paladin herself!

"_Princess_ Elincia wishes to speak to Ike," Ike turned to Soren who in turn directed his gaze to Titania. Obviously her stress on the girl's title was her way of persuading Ike that he had to come immediately. Soren wasn't swayed so easily.

"The _entire camp_ wishes to eat well," he replied curtly and then tried to attract Ike's attention back to the papers all over the meeting table. Titania stared at Soren, Soren glared straight back. There was a battle of the meanest looks searing through the tent for a few minutes before Ike decided to step in.

"Titania could you please apologise to Princess Elincia and say that I am in a very important meeting at the moment. She's free to attend if she wishes, but otherwise I will try and talk to her later at dinner."

"Yes Commander," Titania nodded at Ike but then turned to glower at Soren. Soren wanted to smirk at her but remained dignified. Elincia would have to wait a little while longer to have some alone-time with her precious hero!

When Titania had left he turned back to Ike. He sent his commander a curious glance as he noticed Ike was frowning. Ike had seemed a lot happier ever since he and Soren had started to share tents again. Of course he was stressed, and tired, but his mood had improved after their following battle, two days earlier, when they had managed to persuade the Heron Prince into talking the King of the Crows out of attacking their troops and leaving the Daein defences very poorly manned. It seemed Daein was making it easy for them, so incompetent were the soldiers on the border defences. Of course that meant the defences about the forts and castles, and most likely the royal castle, would be a lot greater...

Soren had been loath to give Ike a report detailing all the horrors they could find near the Daein capital. Aside from the King of course, the first and foremost had been The Black Knight and that was why Soren was so hesitant to give the list over. Ike deserved all rights to kill the man who had slain his father, he should, revenge would settle his grief and thirst for action, but... Soren felt cold at the thought. The Black Knight was a seasoned warrior, taught by Ike's father and he was one of the Riders grouped by Ashnard. He would no doubt have decades of experience behind him. Ike was seventeen, thrust into a General's role with no previous military experience apart from this war and his first few lowly mercenary missions. He had never beaten his father in a practice fight when they had both been fighting at full strength and well...

Ike was a great and mighty warrior, that was plain as day, but... Soren couldn't face losing him. He didn't want to imagine a world without Ike, as sickly and sentimental as that sounded. He felt, secretly of course, that he needed Ike there. If there was no Ike, Soren would lose all purpose in his existence. Who would keep around the strange little grouchy tactician with a dragon's glare who apparently had sold his soul for magical power in becoming a Spirit Charmer, if Ike wasn't there to insist on it? The problem was that Soren always thought of every situation possible, and in a lot of those Ike could die at the Black Knight's hands and however much Soren immaturely tried not to think about it, the closer they got...the more chance they would run into that hulking black figure of doom.

"Is anything the matter?" He asked his Commander. The simple question seemed very anticlimactic after his mind had just spun into such miserable thoughts of doom and death. However it had to be said, it was one of those phrases used to promote basic social interaction that Ike often commented he didn't use enough. Usually Soren didn't particularly care whether the general members of the camp had any negative matters about them if such matters didn't affect their battle prowess. However, with Ike, he felt like he needed to use this particular cliché phrase as he was genuinely wondering about what was troubling the General.

"I'm fine," sighed Ike, "Just a bit confused." Soren frowned ever so slightly. He had made sure to make his supply report as easily-understood as possible. What didn't Ike understand? It seemed the man beside him had realised what Soren's reaction meant as he hastily amended: "It's nothing you've said! I understand your report! No, it's Elincia I don't get... She keeps asking to see me and I keep expecting that she wants reports on how the battle is going or whether her subjects are in good health, or that kind of thing. But whenever we talk, all she says is what a lovely day it is, or aren't these particular flowers lovely, or... well, she uses the word 'lovely' a lot."

Soren rolled his eyes, causing Ike to look concerned and ask.

"Am I being stupid?"

"No," said Soren simply. It was his lack of a proper response that perhaps gave Ike the inclination to continue with:

"And it wouldn't be a problem if she didn't ask so often, she does it almost every day. We're all so busy these days but she doesn't seem to be, so she asks for my company."

"Visiting her is cutting into your valuable working time?" Soren inquired, making a note of this on a scrap piece of parchment and tucking it into one of his tomes.

"Yes, basically," said Ike with another sigh, "So why do you think she does it? Wish I understood."

Soren shuffled in his chair and thought about the best way to explain this to his commander without painting Elincia into an Aimee-like figure. This would only be counter-productive as then Ike would be too scared to go near her and they would have great political trouble on their hands, especially if Elincia was so persistent. He had to come up with a less intimidating, but equally-accurate, statement to explain the fact girls fawned over Ike so often. Ike was incredibly naive about these matters. He finally chose an easy way of explaining it.

"Do you remember those fantasy stories that you used to insist on reading to me shortly after we met?" The sage inquired, "You were adamant on reading them, despite the fact you knew full well that I could read better than you could."

Ike blinked at him for a moment as his mind whirred through years of memories, before finally it clicked.

"Those fairy-tales I used to read you as bed-time stories? What about them?" He seemed to be wondering how such an obscure memory could possibly be relevant to what they were doing in the here and now.

"Well they all contained princesses and heroes, each following a rather predictable pattern of strife, rescue, love, and a particularly ludicrous _'happily ever after'_." Soren explained.

"I liked the ones with happy endings," Ike commented, looking rather surprised at Soren's negative view of children's tales, "All children like that kind of thing. We _were_ children then."

"I thought they were very unrealistic," Soren replied matter-of-factly. He had never particularly liked those fairytales. When they were much younger Ike would barge into his room with the large tatty book and insist on plonking himself on Soren's barely-used bed, to read the little mage another of his 'favourite' stories from his mother's book. Looking back, Soren realised every story must have been Ike's favourite, for there was never a night where they read one that wasn't, and they read through the entire book about fifty times before Ike grew out of it.

"Well, yes, but they were just stories," Ike replied, "They're meant to make children happy, the boys want to heroes, the girls want to be the princesses..." He paused a moment as if he had just been struck by a deep and meaningful thought. Soren waited patiently until:

"The heroes never had tacticians in those stories..." Ike mused suddenly, "How would the heroes have known they would have to use a certain potion on a certain creature?" It was then it was firmly cemented into Soren's mind that Ike must really be tired. If he was finding discussing the impossible mechanics of fairytales so utterly absorbing and interesting, he really needed to lie down for a moment and take a nap. Soren wondered whether to humour him or simply tell him to take a break. He doubted Ike would take a nap even if he insisted on it. Also he needed to tell Ike about Elincia, if they continued talking about princesses and heroes they might manage to get round to the message he had started with.

"Tacticians weren't designed for glory," he informed Ike, "It's the hero who fights and gets the glory and the honour, the tactician sits back in the shadows of the meeting tent and lets them. The story-writer probably never saw the tactician."

"Well, not this time, if they make stories about this war," Ike said firmly. Soren actually laughed. It was a strange soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a snigger and something that was just _Soren_. Ike blinked in shock and fell silent. He stared wide-eyed at the raven-haired mage who had laughed only once, but the fact it was just so weird, so strange, and so _rare_, had rendered him speechless. He had not heard Soren laugh for goddess knew how long, once, perhaps, when they were children. When he had made it his mission to try and spend as much time as possible with Soren and his greatest challenge was to try and make him smile, let alone laugh.

Finally, when he managed to speak, he gasped

"You _laughed..._"

"I did,"

"I miss reading you fairy-tales,"

Soren blinked at Ike in surprise. This seemed a logical conclusion in Ike's mind apparently. Perhaps he was trying to remember whether Soren had laughed before and then thought of their childhood. He had probably then thought aloud.

"It always helped you get to sleep," was Ike's next distracted thought. Soren had conflicting views about this purposeless conversation. His initial thought was that this was a waste of time when they should be being useful for the welfare of the camp. His report hadn't been finished and they still had other matters to discuss. They should be sorting weapons, arranging supplies, making sure everyone was battle-worthy, not sitting here discussing childhood memories! However there was another way of looking at it. Soren's tactician's mind, which could look from all angles, had come to the conclusion this conversation could benefit his Commander. He didn't want Ike to become overly stressed, to fall ill from the pressure of the position he was in. Therefore, a simple discussion such as this could benefit his mental state of being and relax him briefly before he returned to his usual duties. To Soren, who needed relaxation no more than he needed regular meals or regular sleeping hours, this was a waste of time, however he was helping his Commander, therefore the conversation should continue.

"It wasn't the stories that helped me sleep," he said plainly and truthfully, "I found them ridiculous even then."

Ike frowned at him. "Then why did you fall asleep better than usual?"

Soren didn't answer but merely looked at Ike as if in deep consideration of the question. He did know why he slept better on their story nights. Sat on the little spare cot, wrapped up in blankets and the arms of the taller boy, experiencing that strange comfortable warmth and cosiness of having that voice, that embrace, that company, always with him...that was why he had felt safe to drift off to sleep so easily. He opened his mouth to lie about this reason when suddenly:

"Sorry to disturb your tender moment, but Ike, you're late for training!" Soren jolted back to the here and now with an almighty lurch. He swore in the Ancient Language as he realised a familiar green-haired person was smirking at them through the tent flap.

"I'm happy to see you too," Stefan replied with a smirk, "I don't even understand that fancy Heron-speak but I could tell that was nothing but rude. Sorry for ruining your moment, but don't worry, you can continue to stare into your commander's eyes on the training field if you like."

Soren let out a string of Ancient that literally translated to _'I will burn you in your sleep'_ and started to gather up papers as Ike looked between the swordsman and the sage with slight confusion on his face.

"You two know each other?"

"_Yes, quite well,"_

"_No we do not,"_ The two spoke in unison and Soren promptly glared at Stefan, whose eyes were flashing dangerously, matching the roguish smirk on his face.

"Well evidently you do," said Ike. Soren stiffly adjusted his pile of books and papers as Stefan replied.

"Oh we've met," he drawled cattishly, "I might have disturbed his work a few times. The real fact is, that we have a lot more in common than he actually wants to believe."

That was the last straw. The only reason why Soren was not setting that infuriating swordsman on fire was the fact he was a valuable warrior who they actually could need to win this war. Instead, he chose the more dignified option of sweeping majestically from the tent and fixing the sandy swordsman with the most terrifying and venomous of glares he could muster.

His crystal was going to hear a lot about this later.

* * *

><p>"Nasir! Nasir! Nasir, can you hear me?" Kurthnaga sat on his bed, which had become his new desk as it had more papers and quills on it than the meagre wooden surface could ever hold. However for once he was not transcribing the words of his 'lost brother'. The far away member of their kin had actually been relatively quiet today, he evidently was very busy. Kurthnaga had had little to entertain himself except for the amusing sight of Gareth trying to pass a bookshelf out the window to a friend of his. The friend of his was currently transformed as they had to reach up to the high window, however red and white dragons had such small front legs when transformed so it was bit hard to carry the mighty bookshelf.<p>

Using transformation to shift heavy objects was a very good idea though. Kurthnaga had offered to help but Gareth had frowned, told him it was not a prince's duty, and asked him whether he was trying to find an excuse to leave the castle. Kurthnaga assured him that he wasn't, but returned to his room nevertheless. Instead of fanatically transcribing the words of the enslaved Goldoan he had decided it was about time he actually found the poor man, and so, it was time to get in contact with Nasir.

However the white dragon of an ex-advisor wasn't making it easy for him.

"Nasir!" he shouted with the sending stone. This particular crystal was much more beautiful than the cracked dusty version he used to hear his discovery. The smooth white solid looked as if it had been carved from a block of purest snow, contradicting the ever-constant warmth of the magic it possessed. The smooth hard surface made it comfortable to hold, and impossible to scratch or mar. A glow that ranged from soft white, to ambient blue radiated from its inside, and the whole crystal was a sign of Goldoan communications mastery.

"Nasir!" The Goldoan prince called into the softly pale depths, "Nasir! This is important! Nasir!" He didn't receive any reply and Kurthnaga wondered whether this was simply due to the fact Nasir had no stone, or the fact the white dragon was still angry at his father and therefore would not talk to Kurthnaga. Nasir was probably somewhere near Ena, maybe he could try communicating with her next...

"Nasir! Please answer me, I wish to speak to you of a matter of great importance!"

"_Prince Kurthnaga?"_

"Nas...Ena?" His thoughts had strayed to Ena, and now he could hear her instead! In that fleeting second of distracted thought the stone had picked up on his new focus and contacted her instead.

"Ena," he greeted into the crystalline depths, trying to keep the surprise out of his tone, "Err, are you well?"

"_I haven't managed to get near him yet,"_ was Ena's sad reply. Kurthnaga immediately felt very uncomfortable. His older siblings had become a rather taboo topic around the castle recently. Everyone feared that if a mere syllable of their names was mentioned then the King would fly up into a rage and destroy everything they had tried to preserve over the last few hundred years –namely not going to war against any other nations. Kurthnaga missed his brother and sister terribly, and being unable to talk about them at first had distressed him immensely. However, as it was in the ancient house of Goldoa, what the King did not wish to think too much about, no one was allowed to think too much about.

"Are you in good health?" Kurthnaga tried. That was really what he had meant the first time, but of course Ena's mind was only really ever on one train of thought.

"_I am healthy,"_ she replied, almost curtly, as if Kurthnaga was being rude, "_Why were you so insistent on contacting Grandfather?"_ Kurthnaga wondered whether he should tell her. Ena would no doubt be in the very midst of Daein if she was looking for his brother, so wherever she was may not be very safe, and also, not very helpful in Kurthnaga's search for their lost brother. Still, she might be able to get in contact with Nasir if she knew about it...

"I've recently made an amazing discovery that I hope Nasir can help me with," he replied after a moment's silence.

"_What discovery_?" Ena asked, sounding sceptical already. There were only about fifteen years between them but Kurthnaga was suddenly reminded that she was indeed his elder. If not for his title she had full right to be sceptical and judgemental about his enthusiasm, however he was a bit miffed that she seemed disapproving before he had even explained what it was. Perhaps it was just stress though. Stress and worry did tend to make people irritable, and Ena was incredibly stressed.

"I have discovered a lost member of our kin," said Kurthnaga, trying to keep all excitement from his tone for the sake of politeness, "He is enslaved to a general from Begnion and can only be a hatchling in years because he has found an old sending stone and is using it as a confident with no idea of its true purpose!" He had let a little excitement creep into his tone there, had Ena heard it?

"_A lost hatchling?"_ Ena asked, sounding as if that was last thing she had expected, "_In Begnion_?"

"His parents may have been captured or killed," Kurthnaga explained, "He confessed himself that he was raised by cruel beorc and then sold on as a slave. He has also become a mage to channel his latent draconic powers without being discriminated against more than he already has."

"_Have you made contact with him?"_ Ena asked, she did sound interested, which was some relief to the prince.

"No," he replied, "I don't want to risk startling him. I have to keep track of him if I have any chance of rescuing him." Ena seemed to approve of this as she replied.

"_And you want Grandfather to try to track him down for you since you cannot leave Goldoa?"_

"Yes," Kurthnaga said firmly, "I cannot bear the idea of one of our people languishing in such slavery, I want to do something about it, definitely do something about it." However Ena had already found a hole in his plan if her next question had anything to do with it.

"_Do you know where in the very large nation of Begnion he is?"_

"No."

"_Do you know the exact placing of the army his General-Master is in?"_

"Not exactly..."

"_Do you know for a fact his General is not one of those marching out towards Daein as we speak?"_

"I don't..."

"_Do you even know what the lost member of our kin looks like?_"

"Err...no..." Forget his first thought, she had picked at quite a few holes and his plan was starting to look like a moth-eaten tapestry!

"_Well Grandfather is currently with the Crimean army heading towards Daein, so he can't help you," _Ena informed the stumped prince, _"And I am approaching Daein's Royal Castle therefore I am busy, I cannot help you either. You should try the water-basin technique and then resume your thoughts." _

"Water basin?" Kurthnaga inquired. He had feared as much. Of course Ena wouldn't be able to help him, he knew that much, but the fact Nasir had got himself wrapped up in this beorc war was even more troublesome. His new discovery would have to go unfound for such a while yet! However Ena's last statement had confused him. Water basin technique? What was that?

"_Don't you remember the second use of the old sending stones?"_ Ena asked incredulously, when she received no reply she obviously took Kurthnaga's silence as a 'yes' and continued:

"_Unlike the more recent inventions you can put the old crystals in a basin of water and use the surface of the water as a plane for viewing the speaker on the other side. You can't talk to them in return, but it was a very good tool for espionage."_ Kurthnaga suddenly remembered. Yes, water techniques! Why hadn't he thought of that before? Now he could see what his discovery looked like! You could only see through the surfaces of the crystal, so the view was quite limited, however it would at least give him some indication of what he should be looking for!

"I'll definitely try it," he promised, "Thank you for the advice!" Ena gave a small sigh.

"Well, I should be travelling now, so perhaps we will be in contact, perhaps not. Regardless, I should go."

"Good luck," said Kurthnaga, "Stay safe."

"Goodbye," said Ena, Kurthnaga thought she was gone when silence fell, however suddenly she spoke again.

"Remember, you don't have to be a full blooded Goldoan to use those stones. I've met some very bold Parentless on my travels." With that she really was gone.

Kurthnaga stared at the stone for a good few minutes after she had stopped talking. Her last message had suddenly caused thoughts to whirl round his head like leaves in the harsh winds of autumn. She had met Parentless? As far as he knew she had been searching places of great power in Daein, how could she have come across the most despised race on the continent there? Perhaps Daein was different but Kurthnaga found it incredibly unlikely someone so low could gain a position of power. Besides, she was suggesting his discovery was a Parentless! Kurthnaga couldn't, or didn't want to, believe it. Who in Begnion would want to mate with a laguz? Which Goldoan would ever mate with a beorc? No dragon he could think of would ever even consider it! It was just absurd! His discovery was evidently a struggling powerful dragon laguz in the most terrible of circumstances! How could he be anything else! There was no way he was a Parentless.

He dropped the new sending stone onto his bed and picked up the dusty cracked older one. No, never, this was a lost brother, not a wretch of a being! He crossed over to a small table in the corner of his room, it held a wash basin and a towel, used for washing his face every morning and evening, however it would gain a much grander use soon. He dropped the stone into the basin with a splash and waited. His lost kin would have to talk for the magic to activate, and then... He'd see his discovery!

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><p>He waited for over an hour, waited, watched, wanting to see something other than the smooth surface of the basin of water with the chipped old stone in the very centre. He prodded the stone experimentally every so often but the only results he obtained were a few ripples and a wet finger. He sat on the floor staring at the basin broodingly, his head swamped by impatient thoughts of the Parentless, his lost discovery, and Ena's situation. He could form opinions and results about all those topics if he was simply allowed to leave the country!<p>

He could pretend to be a pilgrim or something, put a hooded cloak on and adopt a reverent air, he could travel through Begnion with so much ease like that! He would learn how to ride a horse so there would be no need for him to transform. He had never seen a horse before but in stories and songs they seemed quite tameable, they probably wouldn't be able to tell what he was anyway. On his horse he'd ride through Begnion, track his discovery using the stone... and if he met any Parentless on the way, he'd decide what to do then. After Begnion he'd head towards Daein. He'd meet up with Ena and go and search for his brother and sister. The power of three black dragons, a pink dragon and whatever type of dragon his discovery was, would be enough for them to free anyone! They would travel back to Goldoa, by wing or by land, and then his father would recover from his adamant anger and melancholy and everyone would be a lot happier. That was his dream plan anyway.

Kurthnaga idly stared at his own feet, considering how utterly boring it was to be trapped in his own home, until suddenly the water in the basin started to bubble. He stared at it in amazement as it seemed to boil before his very eyes. There was even vapour rising from the bowl and Kurthnaga was suddenly afraid the water would evaporate away before he could even glimpse his lost kin. However he fretted pointlessly, the water soon calmed as the bubbles grew smaller and smaller and finally stopped. Kurthnaga waited for an image to appear with baited breath, and finally...

"Well, that's just a reflection!"

On the small watery surface was the image of a single eye, round, scarlet, and definitely full of frustration. Kurthnaga growled at the surface, it was just reflecting his own eye as he was watching it, which was pointless! Everything was similar, the shade of red, the eyelashes, everything! He wanted to see a lost member of their kind, not his own reflection! He could look in a puddle for that! He turned away from the bowl in annoyance, only stopping briefly to glance back at the surface expecting to now see a reflection of the ceiling. However the eye was still there, occasionally blinking, but it was the same identical eye and Kurthnaga wasn't even staring directly into the depths anymore. He hastened back to the basin, staring at the surface through the gaps in his fingers, which he had placed over his eyes. The surface showed no fingers. This was his discovery! The lost member of his kin was obviously inspecting the sending stone, holding it up to eye-level, and therefore as Kurthnaga looked through the surface of it, he could see the lost dragon's eye. His round, scarlet, _exactly the same as Kurthnaga's_, eye...

"GARETH!" The prince turned tail and fled from his room.


	7. Nightwatch

**AN: Thank you to YourConscienceOnMute, GSFEFan25, Purple Pallbearer, Manakete-Girl, Nadeshiko, Zombeh Sakana, Beta the Second and Kitsune1818 for reviewing! ****Sorry for such a long wait, a combination of Christmas, New Years, schoolwork and exams have really slowed me down over the last couple of months but after a weekend of obsessively playing Path of Radiance and doing nothing else, I've refreshed my knowledge of what's actually canon, and now here's an update! I'm also sorry for not replying to many reviews, once again time was an issue. So, I'm going to answer a few issues raised in your reviews here!**

**Firstly, Elincia and opinions on characters. In "Crystal Clarity" the opinions given on characters are not mine, they are what either Soren or Kurthnaga are thinking. I don't mind Elincia, but Soren finds her petty and annoying, thus that will be the view in the story. A better example is the fact I'm sure you'll have guessed Soren is not going to be happy when he finds out Kurthnaga is spying on him. The narration will become very abusive against Kurth, because it is Soren's point of view. Kurthnaga is one of my favourite characters, that's why I'm writing about him!**

**As for Kurthnaga himself. I'm of the opinion that before he went travelling and ended in prison in Daein, during Radiant Dawn, he had very little, to no, experience of the world outside Goldoa, he just knows what's he's been read and told about. That's why he's very idealistic, but don't worry, he's going to be sent crashing down to earth before the story reaches the three years of game gap.**

**As for Stefan, lots of people think he should be quieter but I've come up with a manageable compromise. He is a quiet observer to everyone apart from Soren. I think it would take a lot of pressure to make Soren give the confessions in his B and A supports and Stefan is there to add yet more pressure.**

**Ok, sorry about all that waffle! Here is the latest chapter! Soren is taking issue with one of Ike's oldest commands – he wants Soren to sleep. However not even Ike has time to dose this chapter for an unexpected attack falls upon the Crimean camp! Also, Kurthnaga will be have a serious discussion with Gareth about his latest revelation, but Gareth has something equally shocking to say to him in return!**

**Please enjoy, and please leave me a review!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven : Nightwatch.<strong>

The darkness had never seemed more boring. He had been gazing into it for quite some time. His mind was focussed on calculating the probability of staying undetected on all possible routes away from this tent and to somewhere he could busy himself properly. There were several obstacles in his way which, though simple enough to circumvent in theory, were riddled with practical complications. The primary issue was the man who was currently sound asleep about a foot away from him. Ike was a deep sleeper, so to anyone who didn't have such a complicated mind as Soren's, would have naively thought they could go tiptoeing out the tent and off to freedom. However the sage knew better. Ike had fastened their tent flap that night with one of the cords deliberately tied round the handle of his brand new silver blade. Now, most would think that was just a way of making sure the tent stayed tied and that Ike was simply preventing the cords from being blown about by any breezes or getting tangled with anything. They would be underestimating the General's determination. Ike knew Soren well, not too well, for he didn't know all about him, but he did at least know his habits and his strength. Soren could not lift the silver blade and if he untied the cord from the handle the weapon would most certainly fall over with a mighty clanking sound. Ike was determinately trying to keep Soren in the tent, or, more specifically, trying to get him to sleep.

This was a constant battle between them that had been decided in different ways as they had grown up. When they had first become childhood friends it took a simple quick hand-hold, and perhaps occasionally moving the cot (which had once been Mist's) into Ike's room, to get him to sleep. As Soren had grown up, and become busier, he had slept less and less accordingly. It took a lot more to get him to rest as time wore on, but Ike's determination never faltered. In more recent times, Ike had to badger Soren to the point he was actually annoying him – which took longer than most people admittedly – before he actually even entered their shared tent, let alone slept. It was rare to see him resting; he went to sleep the latest and got up the earliest so to catch him in that rare state of rest was the greatest challenge in the simple daily camp routine.

Ike had succeeded tonight, partially due to his own perseverance, partially due to a certain green-haired someone who was sitting back of the supply tent grinning cattishly at the busily-working tactician. Soren had just confronted Stefan a few minutes before Ike arrived. Soren had demanded why Stefan was content to just sit there and observe silently when he was watching someone else, but when it came to Soren he decided to openly and loudly badger him. He didn't get an answer due to Ike's untimely arrival, but his Commander's appearance turned out to be a hindrance and a help. Ike would hopefully prevent Stefan being too bothersome, but then again, what if Stefan decided it was about time Ike knew the truth about Soren's true nature? His decision was to rush the General out the tent before he heard anything damning. Ike left fairly happily as Soren promised him, if they left immediately, he would sleep.

But now he had been left in this predicament. He could not sleep no matter how hard he tried. He would turn and twist, adjusting the blankets and occasionally deciding to sleep the other way round, with his head parallel to Ike's head and not his feet. His mind was too restless, too utterly full with things that needed to be done to give him any chance at peace. Tomorrow morning they would approach Talrega and before every battle there were always last minute checks to be done. There was bound to be a battle, they were approaching a heavily garrisoned area, and therefore Soren should not be stuck inside this tent the night before! He should be checking their supplies one last time! He should be checking the rota to see if everyone had picked up their emergency vulneraries, and, due to the recent promotions, checking whether everyone actually knew which weapons they could now use! Sleep was of no use whatsoever other than keeping Ike happy.

And besides, Ike wouldn't be able to tell whether he was there or not! The noise currently coming from his Commander was quite unbelievable. If Ike woke up now and asked why he wasn't asleep Soren wouldn't hesitate to blame it on one single excuse. _Ike snored horribly_. He had all his life as far as Soren could tell. He remembered, some months ago, that the topic of snoring had come up in a whimsical conversation between a small group that he happened to be in the same room as. Mia had announced that Mist snored loudly and that was why she hadn't been sleeping very well in their shared room. Mist, of course, had rejected this announcement and proclaimed that she never snored, ever. Ike had then decided to chime in as Rolf, Mia, Ilyana and Marcia giggled at Mist's denial and Jill simply smiled at it. He said that his little sister had always snored but luckily it wasn't a family habit because he never snored himself. The others didn't believe him one bit and Mia instantly turned to Soren, who had been minding his own business, and she demanded of him.

"Does the Commander snore Soren?"

Soren was known for his precise and accurate reports and he didn't fail them then. He didn't mean to humour them, or provide them anymore merriment; he simply wanted to get back to what he was doing and clean up this annoying conversation that was distracting him from his book-keeping.

"Like a particularly congested flu-ridden wyvern," had been his reply. The group were in hysterics after that, imaging how horrendous Ike's snoring must be if it resembled a wyvern, which was a particularly noisy beast, with a blocked up nose. They had never seen Jill laugh so hard and, as Mia announced some weeks later, that it was the only time that Soren had provided them with any humour. Soren had dutifully informed her that creating humour was not his job and to get out of his neatly-organised supply tent.

He was suddenly jerked back to reality by aloud grunt from beside him. For a moment he considered whether Ike had woken up, but no, another grunt a few minutes later made him conclude that yes, his commander was going exactly as he was now famed to do, snoring. Soren knew if anyone else was Ike's tent mate, Ike would be finding pine-cones or other varied uncomfortable objects in his bed every other night. Or his tent-mate may pinch his nose to wake him up or inflict another childish prank to prevent him from disturbing their rest which such annoying noises. However Soren endured. He was used to Ike's snoring and he didn't think everything would be quite right if Ike didn't snore. It was just what Ike did, what made him _Ike_. If Soren was experiencing this level of snoring with anyone else he would be the first with a pine-cone, but because it was Ike... Well, Ike didn't need to change one bit.

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><p>Soren thought he had been staring into the darkness for at least another half an hour when suddenly light blossomed outside their tent. However, even from the minimal glow through the material, Soren could tell it was not the dawn. It was definitely fire, or more specifically, a torch.<p>

"Wake up! Wake Up! We're under attack!" Rolf sounded shrill and panicked as he called into their tent. Soren had recognised the voice in an instant and had detected the alarm in the very first syllable. He had already seized two tomes and stuffed an elixir into one of his pockets before he realised Ike hadn't woken yet.

"Ike, wake up!" He shouted sternly, giving his commander a good kick in the side. Ike gave a very unflattering snort before jerking into awareness.

"What...what is it?" He yawned. He cleared his eyes and then suddenly realised the severity of Soren's expression. He jumped to his feet, put his armour on, and had just turned to pick up his steel sword when Soren pointed at the silver blade that was blocking their path out of the tent. Ike swiftly untied the cords and grabbed the blade before sprinting out into the campsite.

"Rolf, report," Soren ordered, as the boy trembled next to their tent.

"We were attacked!" he cried, "On the east side of camp! Knights, paladins, archers and mages! They set fire to the eastern watch post and Gatrie set off an alarm call! Daein soldiers are pouring in and everyone has woken up and..."

"Get Mist and go to the west side of camp," Ike told him, putting a hand on Rolf's shoulder before the boy passed out from terror and the fact he hadn't breathed for several sentences, "If you see Rhys get him to start preparing a tent for any injured that we can send his way."

"Mist should aid Rhys," Soren interjected, "If she can recover her horse, let her take the injured to him. The medical tent should be removed from the battle but not impossible to reach, let Rhys make his own judgement on that, we can deem him trustworthy in this matter." Rolf nodded and hurried off as Soren and Ike exchanged glances. The sage thought Ike looked incredibly worse for wear for waking up at such a strange hour, but that wasn't the pressing issue right now. Without a word between them they hurried off in unison straight towards the oncoming battle.

It was the sight of the first burning tent that told Soren that they had not been prepared for this. During their warring campaign they had not once been ambushed in the night and now it was plain to see that they had grown far too complacent in their nightly watch. Once this was over, Soren was going to make sure Ike did something about that, but for now, the only option was to charge forward and end the battle before there were any unnecessary losses. They tore towards the very centre of the conflict, Soren behind Ike by a few paces, accessing the damage as he sprinted. Four burning tents, none of which contained supplies, three weapon racks pillaged, no casualties so far...

"Soren!" A shrill pitched scream echoed around them as a lance-wielding soldier was consumed by flames. He collapsed onto the ground, attempting to roll and put the fire out. However soon he was nothing more than baked skin, charred bones and a heap of scorched armour. Soren glanced at the destruction he'd caused but then paid it no mind; there were more pressing matters at hand.

"I knew he was there," Soren informed his commander, "Now, go stop those axe-men before Oscar ends up with a severed arm!" Ike nodded obediently and charged off towards Oscar and Kieran who were fighting on foot. The abruptness of the attack had obviously meant they couldn't get to their horses on time, or their shirts, by Kieran's current state of undress. The madman was fighting shirtless, cleaving about with his axe without any thought that if his axe didn't make contact with the enemy; he was going to give himself a grievous injury. The others weren't faring much better. Titania had found her horse but was fighting without armour. Shinon had taken refuge on the top of a pile of crates with a longbow, however by the obvious lacking of his usually excellent accuracy; Soren could tell he hadn't slept off his hangover yet.

Their chances didn't even improve when five laguz suddenly leapt into the fray, three of which knocking Soren aside as he tried to access the situation. The glow of the enemies' torches and the burning tents illuminated the two hawks as they swept down from the pitch black sky straight into the battle, tearing apart two archers as they dived. Two tigers and one cat suddenly emerged from behind Soren and it was they who had almost toppled him over. However even he could tell they were slower than usual. He blinked in alarm as Lethe failed to dodge a thunder spell that she could brush off with ease in most battles. No one, it seemed was ready for this rude awakening and something had to be done about it.

He knew there was only one option. The problem had to be eradicated from its source, there had to be a leader behind this. What he had learnt about Daein soldiers so far pointed to one fact, they were either fiercely loyal or absolutely terrified of their leaders. Either way they were very obedient and with no leader...their forces would fall apart. He had to find the leader and take him or her out. He'd do it on his own if he had to, they had to take Talrega tomorrow and he was not going to let a midnight invasion set his plan back! He ducked behind an intact tent and sprinted his way through the slalom of fights and crates. He incinerated an enemy mage who was fool enough to try and pursue him as he darted round the edge of the battlefield. The conflict had encompassed the entire east end of camp and extended into the tree line beyond. If the leader was anywhere, it was going to be near those trees, where the defences were thickest. Now, how to get there in one piece? Surely he should call for support and...

"Used to getting not much sleep too?" For once Stefan's uncanny ability to pop out of nowhere was actually welcome.

"Yes," Soren said briskly, "Now help me take out the leader of these troops so those that need rest can get it."

"You want to team up?" Stefan asked, there was a note of humour to his tone, "Are you asking for my help when you so clearly...?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures so stop being so immature," Soren snapped at him, interrupting him mid-sentence, "Take the lead, we'll cut a path round to the left, straight towards the tree-line."

It was clear no more words were needed. Stefan drew his outlandish Vague Katti and charged straight into the fray. Soren followed, obliterating any attempts on the swordsman that Stefan hadn't spotted. The very air tasted like blood and magic as they ploughed their way through mages and foot-soldiers. Soren ignored every exclamation of the stupidity of some 'humans' that came from the swordsman in front of him. Fighting alongside Stefan was nothing like fighting alongside Ike. He and Ike had learned to fight in absolute synchronisation. Ike would focus on the opponent before him whilst Soren kept a clear perimeter around his commander, striking anyone who dared be as cowardly as to strike Ike from behind. As Ike moved, Soren's perimeter moved, and they swept across the battlefield leaving absolute devastation in their wake.

Stefan fought in a way that was only too recognisable. His every slash screamed 'Watch Me Live', as if every life he took was a defiance to the entire world, declaring that whatever it threw at him, he was still alive. It was the sort of defiance any Branded would need to simply keep surviving. Soren felt like he was becoming soft, he relied on Ike whilst Stefan had let his denial of the world consume him! And look what strength it gave the swordsman! This was no alliance! This battle was simply Stefan ploughing through whoever stood in the way and Soren wiping away the messes that he left behind. They were at the tree-line in no time and there they stood, face to face with the co-ordinator of this surprise invasion.

"Lance-wielder," Soren commented as he caught up with Stefan at last, there was something very smug in his tone. This was his opponent!

"The weapon triangle is for children," Stefan sneered, "Watch me." He charged forwards as the leader of the force started to spout some nonsense about the might of Daein. Stefan was before him in an instant and raised his blade for the killing blow when suddenly...Stephan was blasted off his feet along with the Daein General and several of the solders around him. The General himself was sent into the thick trunk of a tree with an almighty crunch of metal on wood and also a rather sickening crack. The General slid to the ground, unmistakably dead. They would never know what his injury was but the best assumption was a broken spine. Soren didn't particularly care as long as he was no longer there to bother them in battle again.

"Was that entirely necessary?" Stefan got to his feet with a slight limp. Soren raised an eyebrow over the pages of his Tornado tome.

"You underestimated me," he replied, "And now you will not." He turned to look back towards their camp, surveying the sprawled carcasses strewn across what had once been a perfectly functional road. The enemy that had survived Stefan's rampage had promptly fled, leaving the two Branded alone in a sea of black and scarlet corpses.

"SOREN!" A recognisable bellow echoed across the road and Soren hastily leapt over fallen halberdier and hurried forwards to meet the bellower mid-way.

"What happened out here?" demanded Ike, he had been followed out by Titania and a now-mounted Oscar, both paladins looked a little worse for wear, but had come away from the battle uninjured.

"We aimed to stop the attack at its core," Soren informed him, skirting round a fallen mage, a thunder mage by the colour of his tome, "So I set off alone to kill their General and Stefan felt like accompanying me for the journey. Also, the Tornado tome is in perfect condition for casting, so I tested its passages out myself." Ike's gaze fell upon the crumple General at the base of the tree and the ring of fallen solders around him. Next he saw the trail of burnt and slashed bodies the two had left in their wake. Soren waited patiently to see whether he had anything to say about it.

"Even I can say that was...that was!" Ike was growing angry, that stammering was not awe this time, it was rage. Soren was ready for it, he'd never had Ike's rage directed at him but because he knew Ike had no reason to be truly angry at him, he was prepared for it.

"That was extremely reckless!" shouted Ike, "What do you think you were doing? You could have been killed!"

"But we weren't," Soren replied calmly, "I thought the entire process through so there is no reason to be upset with our actions."

"Soren if I went and did this, I would never hear the end of it from you!" Ike exclaimed, "This was reckless! You charged off towards an unknown number of enemies, with only two weapons, one of which you've never been able to use before, and you had no idea what you were going to face out there! And! And, if Stefan wasn't there, you would have gone any way! I know you would! Even I know that's reckless to the point of idiocy!"

"It was not idiocy," Soren retorted, sounding vaguely annoyed now, "I had a sound plan that was wrecked by Stefan's interference and..." He glanced backwards, wondering when Stefan was going to confess to his part in this escapade...only to find Stefan had vanished and left him to his own excuses.

"Why Soren!" Ike demanded of him, "Why would you charge out here when you could be felled by the first axe that catches you unawares! What is so important that you have to prove it like this? You could have defended the camp inside it with the rest of us!"

"I wanted the battle to be finished with!" Soren replied angrily, "I wanted it to be finished so we could all recover quickly and rest for the battle tomorrow! If it means putting myself in danger so the entire army will perform better tomorrow, so be it! I wasn't ever going to die for it! I don't see why you're so angry? We have survived to fight another day!"

"I'm...I'm not angry!" Ike retorted, his words contradicted his body language. His fists were clenched, he was scowling heavily and his shoulders were heaving with barely contained fury.

"Then what are you?" Soren asked sceptically.

"I was worried about you!" Ike exclaimed, "You could have died! And where would that have left m...I mean us! We all need you! I couldn't be half the commander I am without your help! The camp would just fall to chaos without you there! We need you! I need you! _Don't do something like this again_!"

There was a long moment of silence before…

"I'm sorry."

Soren's quiet reply almost seemed anticlimactic after all that shouting. He had caught Titania and Oscar unawares at least, for there was suddenly a clang of Titania dropping her hand axe. Perhaps the real shock had come from hearing the sage actually apologising. Soren sent both paladins a glare that clearly meant he was never going to say it again. Ike seemed just as surprised as they were however. He said nothing and just stood there, surrounded by the charred evidence of Soren's recklessness, the recklessness that the stubborn sage had actually _apologised_ for... This was a day that Ike, and probably Titania and Oscar too, were likely to remember forever.

"Let's go back," Ike said, holding out his hand. Soren glared at the paladins again before hurrying forwards and walking next to his commander. Their hands almost met, but in the end they simply walked side by side back into camp. Soren was strangely quiet all the way back to their tent where he said that Ike should rest and that he would follow shortly. For once he felt uncomfortable about lying about his sleeping habits but there was work to be done, there was still a battle tomorrow and he needed to make sure everyone was still as ready as they could be before the attack. He left their tent unobstructed and slipped his hand into a pocket to find his little personal mystery.

"Worried about me..." he breathed to the crystal, "Worried about me. It sounds ridiculous! But Ike..." He frowned as he approached one of the weapon racks he noticed earlier.

"We've lost three javelins," he mused aloud, he stowed the crystal away and went to fetch his record books. He buried his face into his collar as he hurried towards his favourite supply tent to retrieve the record books. His last thought before he lost himself back in his work was simply: _could this possibly be the first time someone has actually worried for me? _After thathe scolded himself for being ridiculous and got to work.

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><p>"Are you completely sure?" Boredom and isolation did strange things to some people and Gareth was worried about the young prince. Gareth had experienced all three of the royal siblings in states of confinement and usually it didn't reflect very well on their characters. He knew they were forever being compared to each other, more silently now any mention of the elder siblings had become taboo. Rajajon, as the eldest, was meant to resemble his father because he was the crown prince and heir. When he had received one of his rare punishments, usually from breaking his curfew when he went to sneak out to see Ena, he took to his confinement in the palace with a solemn elegance and grace. All came to admire him in these times as the epitome of true breeding and Goldoan maturity and he provided the level that both his siblings was expected to follow.<p>

Almedha did not cave into this towering expectation, and like every case of sibling comparison, was determined to do her own thing. If she was locked up the whole castle knew about it. She screamed and stormed, and once she grew into her fiery breath, was an absolute nightmare. She didn't really have any reason to be locked up because there was no real reason why she should want to break any rules. However Almedha created her own trouble, she didn't enjoy curfews even though she had no reason to break them, and she was always trying her hand at interior design where it really wasn't needed. Goldoa was a place of tradition so it wasn't welcome when she decided to move the treasured antiquities away from positions they had been in for centuries. Gareth shared the opinion of the King's other advisors and the late Queen. Almedha rebelled because of her older brother's perfection and because she would never get the throne off her brothers. It took her disappearance for the King to realise that.

Then there was Kurthnaga. After Almedha turned out to be quite the madam, the closest advisors grew cautious of the youngest sibling. Compared to his elder siblings he had never seemed quite as talented. His transformation control and his powerful breath came much later in his growth and his draconic form was far smaller than either of theirs. He was younger, quite a bit younger, so it should have been expected, but his father had already pointed out that he was smaller than was predicted for a Black Dragon. Kurthnaga was the baby of the family, he was patronised and judged because his siblings were so different, and Gareth knew this couldn't be healthy for him. That was why he thought Kurthnaga was trying to do something dramatic. He wanted to get noticed, to have his own achievements. He was fixated on saving this 'lost brother' as if he wanted an achievement to his name. Saving a laguz slave from his position looked utterly impossible and that was probably why he wanted to do it. The heroism of bringing back a lost member of their kin back to Goldoa would put his name in history books so even if he never ascended to the throne, he would remembered as a mighty warrior. Also there was the undeniable factor that Kurthnaga was bored and such boredom could cause wild fantasies to start soaring round the prince's head. That was why Kurthnaga's latest announcement sounded particularly unlikely.

"At first I thought I was looking at a reflection," Kurthnaga explained earnestly, "But I looked at it through my fingers and it was certainly not my reflection in the slightest."

"Are you sure it bore the same hue?" Gareth asked. His tone was more serious than it had been in any of their previous conversations on the topic of their lost kin, "A single shade's alteration can tell the difference between species, your highness. A bright red is typical in my kin, the Red Dragons, but your wine-red dusky hue is only ever found with a Black Dragon."

"Why then he is a Black Dragon!" exclaimed Kurthnaga, who had clearly worked himself up into a great fit of shock and excitement, "Our eyes were identical! His was perhaps a little wider and more effeminate, but he is barely past a hatchling so youth may do that...but he's family! How can this be?"

"There is only one logical conclusion if you speak full truth," Gareth replied grimly.

"What is it?" Kurthnaga asked. He seemed to wonder at how serious Gareth had become. The usually-severe looking advisor had become even sterner looking as it seemed he thought over something that troubled him deeply.

"You are an uncle," Gareth concluded seriously, "It is the only possible way this kin, no, your nephew, could exist. There are no Black Dragons other than yourself, your father and your siblings. You have not sired anyone and your father vowed never to again after the death of your honourable mother, besides the entire kingdom would know if he had. Either Prince Rajajon or Princess Almedha must have had offspring, it is the only way this is possible."

"But..." Kurthnaga couldn't believe his ears, "But...Rajajon would never betray Ena and I know she has not found him yet! And who would Almedha find as a mate in a place as remote as a beorc nation like Dae..." Kurthnaga's blood ran cold.

"Gareth..." He said cautiously, every syllable ringing with nervous apprehension.

"Yes your highness?"

"What...What do you think of...of..." Kurthnaga gulped, it didn't even feel right to say the word within his father's walls, "Of...of the Parentless?" Gareth's face grew even sterner. His eyes grew cold and his hands balled into fists. Kurthnaga, alarmed, backed away slightly even though he knew Gareth would never try to hurt him. He had never seen such blank fury pass over the advisor's face and he had never expected such a transformation could occur simply over one single word. He knew the Parentless were unnatural and should be ignored but he could never imagine someone could be so _angry_ over a mere mention of them!

"Why do you bring _those creatures_ up your highness?" demanded Gareth. Kurthnaga flinched, there was an underlying growl to Gareth's voice and the way he spat out 'those creatures' made the prince think he was about to start breathing flames!

"I..I just thought…" Kurthnaga stammered, "I just thought…Well I was talking to Ena…and she said he might be…our lost kin might be…you know…a Parentless?"

"If he is then he is not our kin," snapped Gareth, "If he is you should leave him in his slavery and hope we are rid of him that way."

"But what if he is my nephew!" Kurthnaga protested. He didn't like the Parentless, he thought like the rest of his country did when it came to those goddess-damned abominations… but surely it was different when they were your own family?

"All the more reason to leave him," Gareth said firmly, as if trying to banish all notions of accepting Parentless out of his head, "We should not allow Goldoan blood to be mixed or let anyone know if it already has. Besides, why would either of your siblings decide to mate with a human? It is unthinkable!"

"You're right," Kurthnaga sighed, "I should never have thought of it. My apologies." Gareth nodded then turned and left the room. Kurthnaga picked up his freshest piece of paper and idly read the last thing he had transcribed: _**"Worried about me. Worried about me. It sounds ridiculous! But Ike (pause, probably thinking followed by the action of noticing something) We've lost three javelins," **_General Ike was his lost kin's Master and javelins were beorc weapons that could be thrown and used in short ranged attacks. He had grasped those facts so well but everything else was slipping through his fingers as if he was trying to claw at sand. He knew he shouldn't be surprised at Gareth's reaction to his mention of the Parentless but somehow he was. If there was a possibility his discovery was a blood relative…but also a Parentless… He didn't know how to feel.

"Are you my nephew?" he asked the stone. It just remained silent and decrepit –looking on his bedside table. He reached out for the stone, was now the time to try and actually talk to his discovery? His discovery was certainly still talking, he never seemed to sleep at all! Kurthnaga was scared he would miss things whilst he was resting because his lost kin was up at all hours. He even seemed to working right now, he'd been working for hours! His 'Master' was probably driving him incredibly hard, depriving him of sleep and relaxation and working him to the bone!

"_We're short of blankets and two of the horses are unaccounted for. Makalov and Astrid can stay out of tomorrow's conflict…"_

Kurthnaga put the stone back down again. His discovery seemed to be a survivor, could he keep on doing so without any help? And what if he was his nephew? What would he do? He gave the stone one last glance before slumping back onto his bed. He should do something. He needed to do something. He just needed to find something he could actually do. That was it, tomorrow he was talking to Ena once more.


	8. Draconic Relations

**AN: Thank you to WolfenAmpithere, STKB, kageshoujo, and kitsune1818 for reviewing! I'm very glad that people think I'm managing to keep everyone in character. The reason why chapters of Crystal Clarity take so long to write is the fact I keep having to rewrite them to make sure they are in character as much as possible.**

**This chapter contains a focus on family. The Crimean Liberation Army approaches Talrega and Soren is left to focus on the connections around him whilst Kurthnaga debates whether he could care for, or to be allowed to care for, a Parentless. This chapter the story gains a new character who will be appearing in flashbacks for now but will be playing a large part in the story to move the two halves together.**

**Please enjoy and please review! **

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Draconic Relations<strong>

To say that this day was progressing in a good-fashion was wrong to the point of lunacy. Their wake-up call came to them earlier and more desperate than usual when Mist came bursting into their tent wailing that her old bronze medallion had gone missing. Whilst Soren gathered his tomes he couldn't help but notice Ike's face had gone a shade of pale that he had never seen on his commander before. The logical conclusion was that it had gone missing in the confusion of the sudden attack last night and it had simply slipped accidently into her blankets, or was dropped on the path, when she was awoken and had to go and assist with the trouble. Mist claimed she hadn't thought about it during the battle, which was excusable but a little inconvenient in Soren's point of view, and had only realised this morning it was even gone because she was so tired, also inconvenient in finding the tarnished piece of metal. Mist was clearly worked up about it so they promised to look as they were readying themselves for the approach on Talrega. Soren thought if somebody did purposely want to steal the old piece of jewellery the midnight ambush would have been a fit time to do so. However who would want a simple family keepsake from a simple mercenary family? Ike seemed very worried about it, even more than Mist by his sudden change in hue; however Soren lent that to the irrational feelings of closeness that happened between family members that he wasn't exactly experienced with.

If that hadn't been trouble enough, what met them when they left the tent was worse. Everyone was tired. Soren, of course, had not slept since the attack last night and of course he wasn't even asleep before that. However he was very much at home with long periods of little rest. The others clearly weren't. Drooping heads and bleary eyes were the cases on nearly everyone Soren passed as they packed up camp into the convoy of carts and prepared for their march into Talrega. People were being sloppy in their preparations, making careless mistakes in their packing, making potential accidents more possible by the minute!

Most of these people were seasoned warriors, Soren complained to himself; surely they should be ready to fight at any time of the day even if they only had four to five hours sleep. That amount of sleep was almost luxurious! They should be as efficient now as they ever were. This sort of behaviour shouldn't be excusable. Ike was also suffering from this sleepless drain on his usual efficiency. Soren got impatient and handed him a vulnerary, a steel blade and a longsword just to hurry him up and save him fetching them himself.

Miraculously they did manage to pack up on schedule and head out for Talrega exactly as Soren had scheduled. Then they ran into the third great joy of the day. The Daein army had decided it wanted to flood its own people to their deaths, just to stop the Crimean Liberation Army's progress. Now they had to race through the battlefield and defeat the enemy general before there was a wide-scale flood. For weary soldiers, racing may be a challenge. Talking of challenges, it also happened that this area's particular general was Jill's father; this meant Soren had to quickly rethink the placement of their airborne units. He felt, once again due to that irrational feeling of closeness between family members, that Jill may be tempted to switch sides once more if she was facing her own father. Therefore she must be kept away from him at all costs so they didn't end up fighting her. Soren had a feeling this would be easier said than done.

Or would fighting her just make this whole catastrophe a little easier? Soren span on the spot and with a great burst of wind a wyvern rider was slammed into a nearby roof and lay there lifeless, neither beast nor rider stirring. Soren wasn't having any trouble with the great winged nuisances. A quick blast of wind magic could wipe them from the sky with relative ease. He only wished everyone else was performing as efficiently as he was. Poor Rhys was being rushed off his feet and even if he was constantly being accompanied by the Heron Prince, he wasn't getting to all the injured people who needed him. People were being clumsy and careless, how could they call themselves seasoned warriors when they acted so dreadfully just because they hadn't had enough sleep! Well, they were making do and nobody had received a fatal injury, but if they had all been fighting as usual they would've closed the floodgates by now!

"Ike, I'm going to the front of the battle," he informed his commander.

"Not again, you're staying here. We are not having a repeat of last night," Ike replied sternly, turning to drive his sword through a knight's horse causing it to rear dangerously.

"Up the hill there are only wyvern riders and magic users," Soren informed, whilst ridding them of another winged nuisance, "As you should have noticed, I am quite capable of dealing with wyverns and my skill at surviving magical attacks is almost second to none. I am also the most awake person in the general vicinity so I am going up that hill whether you like it or not, Commander." He knew this verbal battle was one he couldn't win so Ike obliged him on the strict condition that Soren wasn't going anywhere without him. Therefore the hero and the sage found themselves battling their way up the steep hill where troops were desperately trying to dodge magical blasts from several well-placed mages standing before the raised buildings above.

It was during their climb that Soren suddenly felt the drain settling in. That strained empty feeling that could only really mean one thing. He momentarily panicked, his fright not visible on his face so not to alert his commander to what he had realised, however an uncomfortable twist in his gut made sure he knew that going up this hill straight to the strongest enemies may not have been a good idea. He had been awake for the best part of four days and three nights, in that time he had been incredibly active in two battles and had used his magic to vastly devastating effects. And now...his magic was being exhausted. He wasn't tired himself. He was a survivor; he was used to not sleeping for days as he had done so when he was a child. Walking and running for days on end, crawling if need be, was the only way he could stay safe sometimes. Physical stamina wasn't a problem for him. However magical energy was something entirely different, however if he drained it, the magic would start to feed off his physical state and that would exhaust him very quickly. It wouldn't be a good idea for him to use anymore magic so being at the front lines was incredibly dangerous...

However, was he going to admit to Ike that his adamant decision was wrong? Of course not. It may affect Ike's views on Soren's decision making in the future and he certainly did not want to lose Ike's trust. No, he had to get through this with minimal fighting and he could only use magic against the most powerful if their situation was looking particularly bad. Ike was masterfully taking down everyone that opposed them so Soren's work turned out to be minimal. His main focus was to dodge anyone that charged towards him. He could see Oscar and Titania had already made their way to the very top of the hill. His only reaction to the Titania's decapitation of one of the mages ahead of them was a simple recognition that one danger to their path had been removed. If Ike wasn't there he may have been as vulnerable as that now-headless fire mage that was undeniable. However his decision had been final and he was going to follow it through to the end. He only hoped he had the energy to walk by the end of it.

"The Enemy General has engaged Oscar," Ike barked to all those around him, "All those close must assist him! Quickly!" He ran towards the highest point of the hill and Soren hastily followed him. He glanced about, searching for any sign of Jill. The fact that he couldn't see her at all was probably a good sign, she was nowhere near the front of the battle and therefore wouldn't interfere with this final fight. He followed Ike as Kieran came charging past them with great battle cry, clearly not allowing his rival to take the glory of defeating the general all on his own.

"Soren," Ike said, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the sage. Soren couldn't help but notice there was blood on his Commander's face, "Soren, can you use your wind magic on the General's wyvern, that should weaken it a lot, right?"

"It would," Soren repeated. This was not a good idea. Of course Ike didn't know this wasn't a good idea and he had given Soren a direct order. One of the sage's hands closed into a fist as his sprinted forwards. It was a direct order so he had no choice, they were in no position to argue, and he didn't want to admit to his loss in power. He knew his limits well enough to know that a single blast of Elwind would leave him staggering in physical exhaustion, but a simply wind spell... He wasn't given the choice. The general was wielding a tomahawk axe and as soon as he caught sight of the supposedly-easy prey of the sage heading straight towards him, he lifted off the ground and sent the gleaming golden weapon spinning towards Soren. In a single motion Soren ducked and slid forward in the churned muddy path, thrusting his arm forward to release a great torrent of green magic at the now-reeling wyvern. The general took too long to recover control over his now-wounded animal and that was long enough for Ike to leap up and drive a sword through the man's chest.

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><p>The battle took very little time after that. The troops scattered and most were felled as they tried to slice their ways to freedom. They closed the floodgates to stop further damage to the surrounding land and as the conflict was completely subdued Ike and those around him had to discuss other matters.<p>

Completely idiotic matters.

They barely had enough supplies to feed their ever growing army, let alone halve them and give out donations to the villagers! Were the Daein troops giving out free food to Crimean citizens as they ravished the country and tore down everything the Crimeans thought dear? Of course not, so why should they do that either? Were these naive idealistic their army called 'leaders' really going to feel better because their consciences were lighter, when their stomachs constantly growled at them in hunger? The villagers could cope by themselves, they just had to look past all the comforts they had unappreciatively been enjoying and actually do some real survival work. There would be plenty of edible plant life about, and besides, if they walked merely a few miles they would find unaffected towns that could provide their own kinsmen with food. Soren had the feeling that it would be these same towns that their army would have to purchase from to restore their own supplies. This situation was beyond nonsensical. He had pointed out how idiotic their ideas were but they had just muttered how immoral he was. They were wrong about this too, he wasn't immoral, he just dictated common sense.

After they had slashed themselves in the sides by handing out their food supplies, they were left to walk miles away from Talrega so they could set up a new camp site. Everyone was already exhausted however they could only rest when they had a safe and stable place to rest in. Soren felt like he was dragging his feet with every step he took through the newly-forming campsite. Ike had disappeared from sight to go and find Jill and give her his condolences, so now Soren was free to sow just how exhausted he was. He should never have used that wind spell on the General, the magic had drawn on his physical exertion and now his legs felt like lead. Some idiot had decided to give him a mallet and hope that he actually had the strength to do something with it. Soren hit at the tent poles with all his might but his arms seared at the effort and he quickly handed the mallet over to the nearest unoccupied person. He decided to go and find a job much better suited to his own talents.

The evening after the battle was a tense one, not aided by the fact that Jill had taken to flying in circles above the camp. Marcia had flown up to her to try and encourage her to join the rest of them. However her mission was unsuccessful and she returned saying that the greatest privacy was sometimes in the air and they should allow Jill her time. Soren however was somewhat irked by the periodic flapping of wings that repeatedly disturbed him from his record keeping. Another great annoyance from their charitable donations today was the fact he now had to re-write all his records concerning their supplies, and to be honest, he was tired and had had quite enough. He found himself mentally charting how long he'd been awake, yes, it had been about four days and three nights, and there had been two battles in that time, the first was which he had used magic with absolutely abandonment of consequences to his stamina.

It was excusable that he was tired however it wasn't excusable that he should shirk off doing his duties. He needed these reports corrected even if most of the others were calling it a night. He had to keep going no matter what. He had to get these reports finished. He needed to show them to Ike so he understood why his supposedly-immoral choice was actually the correct one. He needed...He needed...

Soren's head drooped as his quill fluttered to the ground.

"Soren? Are you in here?" Ike poked his head through the tent flap to see his tactician had fallen asleep slumped straight over the crate. Ike gave a chuckle as he leant down and gently lifted Soren by the shoulders. The sage's face was smeared with ink from when he'd fallen onto his neat kept papers. There was a definite ink smudge of the word 'bread' on Soren's cheek and Ike wondered whether wiping it off would wake the sage up. In the end he decided to leave Soren's face alone and gently lifted the sage from his cramp-inducing sleeping position and carried him from the tent, bridal style. As he emerged from the supply tent he was immediately greeted by those he had enlisted in the search for the self-isolating sage.

"You've found him," Titania commented, she was repairing a hole in one her boots, sitting on a tree-stump. She hadn't been as enthusiastic as Mist in their search, perhaps because she had been at the front of the battle and just wanted to get some rest herself. However Ike was short of volunteers for his search and she had risen to his aid.

"Yes, we should have really tried this tent first," Ike replied, there were a lot of supply tents but of course Soren would be in the one that the furthest difference possible from the tent he actually was supposed to sleep in.

"You are going to have a word with him, aren't you?" Titania asked sternly, finishing the amendments to her boot, "We can't spend every evening trying to put him to bed."

"Of course I will, but that doesn't mean he'll listen," Ike replied, they were all getting tetchy with weariness, "Besides, this is the first time I've ever asked you to help. It's not my fault if he's so dedicated to working for our company that he loses sleep over it."

"He's not dedicated to the company, he never has been. He's dedicated to you," Titania replied, speaking somewhat scathingly as she got to her feet with a groan, "If you don't mind Commander, I need to sleep,"

"Good Night then," Ike replied, they parted ways in sleepy silence. Ike stared at the sleeping sage in his arms. Was what Titania said true? Perhaps he was going to end up having more words with Soren than he initially intended? Would Soren give him an answer though? Being his Commander didn't mean he could get Soren to divulge any secrets, he already knew that.

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><p>Kurthnaga never got many chances to exert his authority. No one had ever expected him be a commanding figure, they had just thought he'd turn out as some sort of little diplomat or ambassador who was meant to hover at the sides of political meetings and do nothing else but observe. Rajaion was the one who would inherit the throne if his father ever decided to retire (dying was never a consideration, King Dheginsea had lived far too long to something as simple as die.) Almedha was supposed to make some beneficial marriage and become a lady of their court or some court elsewhere whilst her elder brother ruled and Kurthnaga... Well he'd assumed that he was expected to be a diplomat, but he could end up a scholar, being the royal librarian sounded quite peaceful, or he could try his hand at art...<p>

No one had bother to tell the youngest royal child what he was meant to do with his life and Kurthnaga had passed through centuries with little ambition forced upon him. The meeting with the beorc ship had been the most amazing thing that had happened to him, just beating the meeting of the laguz kings, that was incredibly exciting. However when he managed to help the beorcs, it had been nice to know that he was still deemed a figure of ultimate authority.

However it seemed he only used his authority when he was about to do something forbidden. He was about to go to a place he hadn't touched in many decades, first out of being immaturely banned from there, but then out of nervousness. Now he approached it in restlessness born out of failure. He had tried to contact Ena that very morning but all he had got back from his sending stone had been resounding silence. He had tried contacting Nasir again too however that was just as unsuccessful. He had a feeling that Gareth could get in contact with Nasir if he wanted to. Nasir had left their shores but he saw no reason why he would isolate himself completely. Nasir was the sort who liked to be kept informed and what better person to inform him than his past friend and colleague? The only problem was Gareth hadn't approached the prince since he had stormed out after Kurthnaga's mention of the Parentless yesterday and they hadn't spoken since.

However Kurthnaga didn't mind that right now, mainly because Gareth would stop him in what he was about to do. He'd already had to use what authority he had to approach the set of rooms that he intended to visit. He'd given the men who'd tried to reprimand him his best stern look and then said

"I was aware that I was confined to staying within my home like a mature adult, not that I was to be locked in my room like some disobedient hatchling."

It worked so well that Kurthnaga even surprised himself. He managed to hurry down corridors he had not trod in decades. His could not help but stop and admire the great murals that stretched through the corridors of this side of the castle. It took only a few minutes of searching to locate the old piece of brown glass that he and his brother had wedged in near the very bottom to childishly make their own personal mark on the historic artwork. Kurthnaga smiled reminiscently as he remembered Gareth finding them and giving them a stern-talking to. Rajaion tried to take all the blame and claimed that his hatchling of a brother was just following his example. Gareth wasn't fooled by it and Rajaion was told to go to his room and Kurthnaga was taken back to his mother. Kurthnaga tried to tug the glass back out the wall but after over four centuries of being there, the glass was never going to move again.

He passed on from the murals and finally arrived at the end of his journey, a beautifully carved oak door with the crest of Goldoa on the brass handle. He opened it, feeling the dust on the metal shift at the first use of the handle in decades. He turned it and with a loud creak of neglected hinges, he opened the door and entered.

"Rajaion," he breathed as he entered his brother's bedroom. He walked into the large open room and gazed round at the dust-coated opulence that had once been the bedroom of the Crown Prince of Goldoa. As Kurthnaga walked through the silence he ran his hand along the blankets on the fine four poster bed. He was tempted see if he could crawl under the bed once more and try and relive the days where he would jump out from under there and exclaim 'boo'. The bed was as it had always been, neatly made, as if whoever had arranged it expected the prince to be back at any moment. The curtains were drawn letting bleak sunlight illuminate the disturbed dust which swirled to then rest on Kurthnaga's sandals as he unintentionally kicked it up from the carpet. He padded his way to the large window which extended onto a stone balcony overlooking the nearby woodland. Kurthnaga gently opened the window-latch and went outside, to replace the dust in his lungs with air.

It was this balcony that brought back the most memories. Kurthnaga leant against the cool stone and closed his eyes. This balcony never used to be this silent...

"_Kurth, get down from there, you're going to fall,"_

"_I'm not!" The younger prince protested as he tried to get his other leg up onto the very top of the balcony. He gave a yelp of protest as two strong hands took hold of him by the waist, picking him up and placing him on the ground as easily as if he was merely a sack of flour. _

"_I was almost on!" he complained, folding his arms and pulling a grumpy expression that only made his brother laugh at his childishness._

"_Then you would've been off and tumbling into the trees," Rajaion replied, kneeling down so he could talk face to face with his infant brother, "I've told you before, that's dangerous, you could seriously hurt yourself and Mother and Father would not be impressed with you if you got yourself hurt from something so silly."_

"_Father is never impressed with anything," Kurthnaga sulked, sitting down on the hard stone floor with his legs crossed. Rajaion sat beside him and put a hand on his shoulder._

"_Father is always busy so perhaps he just hasn't got the time to tell you properly how impressed he with you," Rajaion assured him, " We don't get to speak with him very much but I'm sure he's impressed with every single one of us."_

"_He's impressed with you," Kurthnaga replied, "Because you can breathe fire for ages and your wings are HUGE!" He stretched out his arms as wide as they could as if trying to demonstrate just how big his brother's transformed wingspan was. Rajaion laughed_

"_You can't expect to be as big as me yet, I'm a lot older than you Kurth! You've still got some growing up to do, so don't worry, you'll be big and strong one day."_

"_If you say so," Kurthnaga grumbled. Both brothers turned to stare through the ornate gaps in the balcony wall and over the rippling trees beyond. The forest had always been a long strange place that they had only travelled the tips of, usually during picnics when their father wanted them out the castle for important events. They had always been told it was dangerous to go in there alone, even for a Black Dragon, so the whole woodland had seemed an area of great mystery and excitement for all three of the royal siblings. As each learned to fly the first place they wanted to travel was over that forest. Rajaion was the only one who had actually been in it but he had never told the other two about what he'd seen. Later Kurthnaga would realise it was because his brother didn't want to ruin their childish fantasies. He became grateful, though frustrated that his brother was allowed to go where he could not._

"_Rajaion?" Kurthnaga asked, peering at the rustling canopy before them._

"_Yes?" asked the elder prince. However Kurthnaga didn't reply, he just continued staring out at the ocean of leaves before him. _

"_Do you know what we should do," Rajaion said, in the brightest voice he could muster. He sensed childish-sulking and knew it his job to solve it, "We should go flying, together, right now, over the forest and to the sea and back. We'll be back by dinner." _

"_Together?" Kurthnaga repeated, his eyes widening as if this was the most shocking thing he had heard in a while._

"_Why not?" Rajaion asked, "We should do a lot more as a family and this is a good start. Come on, let's go, together." With that he nimbly leapt onto the top of the balcony he had warned his brother against climbing. As Kurthnaga gasped his protests his elder brother gave an almighty leap and a deafening roar. _

"_Not fair!" Kurthnaga cried as a great black dragon winged its way round the castle, "I can't do that in midair yet! Wait for me!" He turned and hurried off the balcony, sprinting as fast as his little legs would carry him out of his brother's room and all the way down to palace gardens. There he was able to transform with his feet firmly on the ground, before taking off and joining his brother in the warm afternoon sky._

In the here and now Kurthnaga climbed onto that very same balcony edge and sat there, knowing full well he could make the transformation fall with the same ease as any dragon in Goldoa. He swung his legs back and forth for a moment before speaking to the open air.

"What would you think?" He asked the horrid silence, "Would you care Rajaion? We never talked about the Parentless...we never had to. But you always said family was important, you made it important as much as you could...but what if they're half-beorc...they're still technically blood-related..." He started to swing his legs back and forth again.

"Ena is my family," he commented, more to himself than his absent brother, "She's not blood-related, but she's still family." He was starting to feel the appeal of talking to himself, no wonder his lost kinsman, (or potentially-not his lost kinsman if he was indeed a Parentless,) did it so often. It was an efficient way of organising your thoughts and clearing your head. Also when you had no one else to confide your thoughts in it was the best way to consider them. Usually in the absence of his closest family he would talk to Gareth, but clearly Gareth didn't want anything to do with his current theories. Therefore talking to himself was not a sign of madness, but a useful solution for pent up wondering.

Then again, who he really wanted to talk to was his brother.

"You supported me when I was a hatchling," he said to the empty air, "And we've always been told you are the perfect example, the perfect prince. So why can't I follow your example and look after this hatchling? Wouldn't you want me to? Does it matter what he is?" Kurthnaga jumped as he saw a shape suddenly rise onto the horizon. However as he peered at the sky line he saw the glimmer of white scales and was left to sigh his loss. He nimbly leapt off the balcony and retreated back into the chamber of memories and dust. He glanced about, surprised that none of the people he'd exerted his authority over hadn't gone and got Gareth to fetch him out there. However there was only one more place he had to go if he truly wanted to remember his time in this room with his brother.

He glanced about once more before crawling under the bed with only his thoughts for company.


	9. Of Traitors

_**Chapter Nine: Of Traitors**_

Rajaion's room had provided no comfort to him. If anything it had only made him feel more lonely and frustrated. It was clear that Gareth wanted no more to do with his theories of Parentless and interaction. He had tried to bring the topic up at dinner however he had merely been scowled into silence. Gareth had commented it was a good thing Kurthnaga's father wasn't here to know of where his thoughts had been dwelling. Deep down Kurthnaga liked to think his father would be interested in such a matter. Why wouldn't he want a grandchild? He had seemed as happy as he ever was when Ena and Rajaion had got engaged. Kurthnaga had always liked the idea of being an uncle. He was the youngest dragon in Goldoa at the moment and the thought of having another, a relative no less, who was younger than he was… It was incredible exciting! Perhaps that was why he was so fixed upon this lost member of his kin. A little nephew would be wonderful. He could be his guide and role model just as Rajaion had been to him. However if said nephew was a Parentless… Kurthnaga simply didn't know how to feel.

Rajaion's room had proved ineffectual so perhaps talking to his sister's living space would provide some answers? Once again he had been forbidden from entering there however that hadn't stopped him the last time. His father undoubtedly had better things on his mind than his youngest son inhaling dust. He probably had better things on his mind than his youngest son entirely judging by how much they spoke anymore. Kurthnaga decided it was best to focus on the task at hand: getting to Almedha's room without the servants reporting his actions to Gareth.

It proved surprisingly easy. Perhaps it was because Almedha was not held in the same amount of reverence as their older brother that very few servants went to and fro from her room, or at least hovered outside it. Both their rooms were dusted every year or so in case they returned, however it was well-known that occasionally servants would go in Rajaion's room to make sure there were no moths eating the fabrics or the furniture wasn't deteriorating. The same hadn't been done for Almedha's. As Kurthnaga entered and began inhaling the usual signs of neglect, he noticed how different his sister's chambers were to his brother's. Almedha had always been the rebellious one and had remodelled her living space regardless of the millennias of laguz who may have occupied it before her. She had somehow managed to import beorc furnishings into the castle. Kurthnaga suspected Nasir might have had something to do with it. When he was younger he had always admired the ornate little tables and finely patterned cushions, the like of which he had never seen before. His father's home was luxurious but these with their soft fabrics and funny hanging tassels. They had never ceased to amuse him when he was a hatchling. So much so that Almedha would have to forcibly throw him out of her room when she had decided he had been in there long enough.

Well she wasn't around to stop him now. He sat on one of the beorc chairs and it gave an eerie little creak. What to say? He hadn't mastered the act of talking to empty air as well as his quandary yet.

"Almedha," he began, "Almedha.. I… I'm sorry for not knocking. Well, you're not actually here so I guess that's inconsequential. So, I've got some matters to think over and I thought it would be good to do it in here." It was like talking to a dead person. Kurthnaga was so sure Almedha and Rajaion were not dead however he used to talk to his mother like this when he was little.

"You're not dead," he said aloud, "I know that. I'm just being stupid. I was just wondering that… if there is a new black dragon somewhere in Tellius. Well it's probably your fault. I hope you didn't have a child with a beorc but if you did… well you must have had a reason. I hope it wasn't to spite Father. I don't think your child would like that to be the reason for his birth however I cannot put it past you. I'm sorry. If you were with him, he surely would have mentioned you. I've thought less of you but I cannot imagine you abandoning your own child. You know how exciting children are here. You would want to bring him home."

A dead weight settled in Kurthnaga's stomach. It all seemed to logical now.

"Unless he was Parentless. Would you have got rid of him then? If you willing engaged in a relationship with a beorc, how could you not know a Parentless would be the outcome? How could you abandon him?"

Kurthnaga put his head in his hands.

"He's been enslaved to a war general, everyone around him insults or hates him. He's been made to hate the world in response and he works day in day out with so little sleep just so his war general will like him. He's got draconic abilities, he's an excellent mage, but he has to use it for war because…because… He wouldn't have to if he was here! I would love him at least! I really would like a nephew! Why couldn't you…"

He stopped talking abruptly and froze where he sat. He could hear a voice. It was rather muffled but definitely there. For one wild moment he imagined Almedha was talking back to him however he soon realised the voice was coming from his pocket. He pulled out the modern sending stone and held it up. Ena's voice now rang clearly through the room.

_"Kurth! Kurth? Kurthnaga! Put your hand in your pocket and…!"_

"Ena?" She sounded awful. If Kurthnaga didn't know her he would say she had become hysterical. However that was impossible. Ena was never hysterical. She was calm, level-headed and one of the most brilliant minds in Goldoa. What reason had she to be hysterical?

"_Kurthnaga, are you alone right now? Where are you?"_

"In Almedha's room," he replied, "Where are you?"

_"Almedha's room?" _ she repeated, _"What are you doing in there? Trying on her dresses again?"_

"That was two hundred years ago and no one was supposed to see," Kurthnaga said hastily, "Also that's not important right now. I'm alone, so why are you contacting me?"

Ena seemed to have calmed down significantly for when she next spoke it was in her usual precise tone.

_"I wanted to know if you had heard from Grandfather recently."_ She wanted to call after Nasir? The most recently Kurthnaga had sensed him was when his ship had collided with that reef off their shores. He informed Ena of this.

"_More recently than that! Beorc-recently," _ her calm façade had slipped, _"As in the last few weeks."_

"My apologies, I haven't."

"_I didn't think you would. I had just hoped…never mind."_

"What's wrong?" Kurthnaga asked. It didn't seem that Ena was merely pining for a familiar face or a family member. She was stuck in the world of beorc who knew what was going on around her? There was a long moment of silence before Ena suddenly spoke in a rush.

_"General Ike's army, bolstered by the support of Begnion and the Bird Tribe are heading towards Nevassa, Daein's capital. King Ashnard isn't there and in his place… I've been told to fight them head on."_

"You?!"

"_I've been fighting in a war ever since the Mad King took him from me." _ Ena retorted, _"However this time I am on the front lines. The purpose of my contacting you is because I just wanted to say that there is a distinct possibility that I won't come out of this unscathed."_

Thought so utterly horrible descended upon Kurthnaga that he was momentarily unable to find his voice. Ena was going to be in a battle, a beorc battle that would have magic users and dragon killing beorc weapons!

"Once…once it's over," he said, "You will contact me again won't you? So I know you're not gone?"

_"I'll try my best. It will take more than a band of beorc to stop me finding him."_

"I know. Just promise to let me know you're safe."

_"I promise. Now, I must be going."_

"Goodbye." As the sending stone grew quiet, Kurthnaga prayed that his goodbye hadn't been final. He'd never got to say goodbye to Almedha or Rajaion before they left so perhaps this was a sign that Ena would definitely come back. He hoped so. He didn't think he could cope with losing her too.

So he waited. He had no idea how long battles were supposed to last. In the books he read they often happened over several days with each side readying themselves and fighting the next day. Sometimes it happened over a mere few hours, when one side was undoubtedly superior to the other. Kurthnaga knew very little about the war that both Ena and his potentially-Parentless quandary had become involved in. He had decided it was the same war. War were horrid scarring things, it seemed impossible to him that two would happen at the same time. His poor enslaved kinsman was constantly talking about weapons and supplies. He was also at war. How terrible it would be if he and Ena were to meet but on opposite sides? He was a magic user! Kurthnaga would pray they never met.

He continued to wait. Having left Almedha's room he returned to his own. The old sending stone had been quiet for a while, as if its speaker simply did not have the time to converse at the moment. The other stone was just as silent. It had been hours since he had heard from Ena. What had become of her? Was this one of those battles that lasted days? What was going on? He felt so useless. If he was at that battle he'd be able to help and stop anything happening to Ena! If he was in the outside world he could have found her, Rajaion and Almedha by now! No one would have to go to war and everyone would be much happier! Or was he just being idealistic? He grew more discontent every hour.

Hours became days. Despite this being such a minuscule amount of time Kurthnaga thought they lasted forever. He stayed in his room, refused food unless it was brought to him, and sat curled up on his bed praying to Ashera that everyone he cared about would be alright. He had no way of knowing how any of them were and now Ena wasn't talking to him, what could he do?

To his utmost surprise it was not Ena who let him know the outcome of what had happened but his topic of study. The enslaved member of his kin had given an angry tirade to his sending stone, an angry tirade that both alarmed Kurthnaga that the two had indeed fought, but also supplied immense relief. Ena wasn't dead and the perhaps-Parentless was not happy about it.

* * *

><p>"That lying blackmailing…" Soren rested his elbows on the crate he was currently using as a desk and groaned. He had known! He had known that man was their traitor yet he had been so cowardly as to cave in to his blackmail. In his own defence, he had boosted his own chances of survival however if he explained this to Ike, Mist's trauma at losing her medallion and the double-crossing would likely eradicate any sympathy Ike would have with him. If he told Ike the truth… no, he could not tell Ike the truth. Once again he had to sit by and do nothing. He was certainly allowed to be frustrated.<p>

"I knew it," he informed the stone he had taken as his confidant, "I knew Nasir was a double agent, for Gallia I had proof, but for Daein… For the sake of family ties, I knew what he was, I learned why he was so disconcerting to be around but… I should have done the last blow myself rather than letting Ilyana take to the front. Perhaps then…"

He stopped talking at the sound of recognisable footsteps. Ike was approaching.

"Soren, you're here right?"

"Of course." Soren replied, sitting up straighter and tucking the mysterious stone into the sleeve of his robes. He picked up his quill to give the impression there was no complaining going on in this tent, only hard work.

Ike entered looking haggard. Sleep had become something of a luxury ever since they had entered Daein. Everyone was very uneasy being so close to the capital even if they had just taken the castle. Soren had given into an hour of sleep here or there but he was mostly subsisting on a diet of tea and bread. Their funds had improved significantly upon taking the capital. However awful the resulting casualties and destruction were, war did wonders for the company's finances. In no other circumstances could they make so much money at the expense of another country. Also when else was looting and thievery permitted? So many morals were swayed when it was believed the end result was just. However Soren knew Ike wasn't here to debate the morality of war with him. This was probably for the best as Soren believed their moral codes may differ.

Ike took a seat on one of the crates and offered Soren something wrapped up in cloth. Soren took it with a questioning frown.

"Someone found this in the throne room, we've got no idea what it is but it's obviously magical. Reckon you could work it out?"

"I'll try my best," Soren replied. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small crystal, not dissimilar to his own stone but seemingly far more valuable. Unlike his, which looked as if it contained a thick fog, this was almost transparent if not the glowing light at its centre. By turning it in his hand he changed its hue from white to a light blue. It was undeniably magic but unlike his own stone the magic felt different, clearer perhaps. Also it clearly wasn't anything of beorc design. This light wasn't that of holy magic, it was some other kind of power, an energy unused by beorc. He also felt no connection with it like he did with the stone he found. That one had an almost comforting aura to it, this one seemed colder, oddly neutral. He of course couldn't explain such feelings out loud without seeming peculiar. There was something similar about the two stones but it would require him to reveal the first to be allowed to investigate the latter.

"It contains laguz magic," he concluded, giving Ike the most straightforward answer he could without admitting his general ignorance, "Something I am not well versed in. May I suggest handing it to Prince Reyson, or perhaps getting some answers out of Nasir. Who knows, he may have dropped it when we took him prisoner."

"Or the Goldoan might have left it behind," suggested Ike. He didn't reach out to take the stone back in fact his thoughts didn't seem to be on the stone at all. Soren wrapped it back up and attempted to hand it back to him.

"Is there anything else you require?"

With a noticeable delay, Ike took back the wrapped stone and turned the package over in his hands. It was clear he had something to say. Soren waited patiently for him to find his words. This was quite unlike Ike. Had someone been interfering?

Finally Ike swallowed and got straight to the point.

"Everyone is tired and I know that means people are going to act up," he began, "I don't think that excuses what some people are saying about you but I'm going to say this all anyway to keep some peace. I've told them they're acting out of turn, and now I'm going to talk to you. I know you prefer the truth to flowery nonsense, so please let's just get this over and done with."

"Of course," Soren replied. It hardly surprised him that people talked about him behind his back. He would surprised if anything they were saying was more hurtful than what he had known in the past. They could talk all they wished it made no difference to him.

"I've had accusations of all sort of rubbish," Ike said, leaning back onto the stack of crates behind him, "Favouritism, people telling me sticking around you is a bad idea, that you shouldn't be trusted. Prince Reyson doesn't like you. Stefan keeps hinting there's something wrong with you. Also Titania's been having problems sleeping according to Mist and her remarks keep getting more cutting. I don't know whether you'd care about any of those but it bothers me that they're insulting you. I've told them to stop."

Soren wasn't entirely sure how to reply to this so didn't. It bothered Ike that he was being insulted? Why? Ike wasn't being harmed by slights against Soren's person. It could be because he associated with Soren that he was coming under the line of fire but still, why did Ike care? Surely it was better to bend to the majority to keep the peace in his army rather than lash back at those offending the minority, or one person in this case. This was a very peculiar action. Ike was defending him… He wasn't quite certain about how he should process that fact.

"In return I've got to say this to you," Ike continued, "Please consider others when you slip off unnoticed, sometimes it can be inconvenient and it also worries some people. I suggest not saying bad things about the laguz any time soon, they really don't seem to like you for some reason, I think Lethe might have told them what happened in Gallia. Also don't charge off on your own. I know you're one of the most capable here but you are a magic user and…well people get their egos bruised if they see the mage on the frontlines killing more than they do. Just stick with me, it'll look like you're supporting me but I'll let you do what you think is best."

"Did you discuss this through with Titania?" asked Soren, it sounded like what Titania may suggest.

"A bit," Ike replied, he sighed and then gave Soren a weary but positive smile.

"And Soren, please, just get some sleep. If it makes any difference, I just gave you an order."

Soren considered him for a moment. He was never sure of the precise wording to use in these moments. Ike's consideration for his person was something he was never able to form precise responses to. The fact he had considered Soren's own preferences and used them to plan a suitable method of keeping up morale in battle. Even if he had had Titania's assistance, Soren was suitably impressed. However all that left his mind was:

"Only if you do so yourself."

"Fair enough," Ike replied as he got to his feet. He stood expectantly until Soren gave in to the promise that he would get no more work done tonight. He felt as if he should say something. Ike, and through Ike Titania, shouldn't get used to having the last word, it undermined Ike's authority and his own ability to look after himself.

"Titania has to do the weapons count tomorrow. Also if she is so insistent on rest she has to have the tent nearest to Kieran's snoring the next time we make camp."

"Sure, sure." Ike merely laughed as they marched back through the camp site.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This story is not dead! Having found my copy of Fire Emblem:Radiant Dawn my love for the Tellius games has returned and thus Crystal Clarity is back in the works. Updates won't be incredibly frequent, somewhere between fortnightly and monthly but that is at least an improvement! Thank you!<strong>


	10. Claw's Edge

**Chapter Ten: Claw's Edge**

Palmeni Temple was a mess. It didn't surprise Soren that bandits would stoop so low as to keep priests hostage to achieve their ends. However the notion was evidently shocking to others, so much so that they were becoming distracted by their desire to see if the priests were in good health or not. Soren had no issue with shoving priests aside; well he wouldn't if he had the strength to. He knew priests didn't keep bricks under their robes but it sure seemed like it as he tried to force one away from the room he was currently trying to enter. They had slain all the bandits in this part of the temple so why couldn't they just flee to safety? That would be sensible, however this whole building was sheer chaos, what made sense only loosely seemed to apply here. If Nasir had sent them here simply in the hope they would lose a few limbs to some arrogant ruffians then Soren's opinion of him could possibly stoop no lower.

The army should count themselves fortunate that their tactician was one who put his tactics above his own personal differences. If he had been so minded he would never have let himself remain in the company of the Heron Prince and that infuriating swordsmaster. Prince Reyson was in the company of his hawk retainers so was proving not so much of a bother. Stefan on the other hand… well if he wasn't so proficient and useful a warrior… No. The man had the same level of grip on him as Nasir did. If this man turned out to be a traitor too then he would officially ask for thorough checks on every single member of their army. He found it unlikely that Stefan would double cross them but his annoyance kept suggesting the possibility as they fought side by side.

Soren knew that in a way he should be grateful for Stefan's continued existence. He had trained with Ike a great deal which was obviously beneficial. However the man was a walking contradiction, an exemplar hypocrite. Soren simply could not stand his presence. First of all there was the swordsman's supposedly quiet nature. Soren had often heard about camp that Stefan kept to himself and didn't say a great deal. He didn't doubt the rumour-circulators however he wished to know why Stefan was happy to gather a mysterious aura where the rest of the camp was concerned, yet be so blunt and abrasive with him. He was near suicidal with his frankness. Some of the laguz already knew what they were and who knows who else Nasir could have told. By mentioning such things Stefan was not only endangering Soren's life but his own. Was bringing Soren to his little desert village really enough of a reward to warrant this danger? Soren told him he didn't want to go the desert and that should be the end of it there. Stefan also seemed to know why he wasn't leaving. Couldn't he have just dropped the subject then?

"They're going to notice soon you know." A nearby priest visibly went pale as Stefan neatly sliced a bandit's throat. As if to display a very clear threat, Soren turned on the nearest feral cat, using a blast of fire to silence the yowling beast which already had several talon marks on its back.

"What are you going to do when it becomes obvious you've stopped?"

"Stopped what?" Soren spat, attempting to focus all his attention on the combat. However Ike had asked him specially to accompany Stefan and not him for this so they had to work together.

"Aging," Stefan said simply, wounding the next cat, "How long has it been?"

Two or three years, but Soren wasn't going to tell him that. Of course he had noticed. At first he had thought he was simply imagining it. Then he had concluded he had just grown up for less time than others, after that he had changed his mind and decided he still needed time to grow a little more. However the matter was irrelevant to day to day matters so he had given it little thought. That was until Mainal Cathedral however, when he had learnt that he simply would not look any older. His face was seemingly frozen in time. Though he hated to admit it, Stefan was right, people would notice and his days with Ike would become numbered. That didn't mean he was going to leave Ike and run off to Stefan's desert cult however.

"I have no idea what you mean." He chose to reply in the negative as usual. It always had little affect but they were surely too close to the bird tribe laguz now to continue this topic of conversation. Well that's what he thought anyway, Stefan clearly begged to differ.

"If you came with me back to…" He wasn't allowed to finish his sentence.

"I don't think you quite understand," Soren snapped, "I am the staff officer of the Greil Mercenaries. I am not going anywhere."

"But for how long?"

From that moment onwards, Soren decided to ignore everything about Stefan except his blade. He fought by his side in silence even as Stefan taunted his opponents. They worked well together, Soren wasn't blind to that, however he decided this was due to no connection between them but because Stefan had been tutoring Ike. He worked well with Ike, not Stefan, yet the influence was there.

The Ashera Staff was a welcome sight when the battle had come to its conclusion. It would have taken nothing less than a legendary staff to make Soren pleased about today's fighting. He had been content to ignore Stefan as thoroughly as possible however even as they descended into rooms that smelt like magic and death, he could not help but imagine the countdown, moving like the shadow on a sundial, until Ike or one of the mercenaries realised what he was. He tried to distract himself with the Ancient Language written all over the walls but the ease at which he recognised some of the words only made the countdown move faster. He had learnt the Ancient Language from the sage that had been so sure he was a Spirit Charmer. He had forced him to learn great scrolls of it, believing that a truly great mage must make the language of magic as malleable as his use of its power. Soren hadn't been able to speak back then but if he had he suspected he would have been thought a heron branded. His studies had been so wrapped in the Ancient Language he would have been more likely to speak that than anything common. He passed a scrutinising gaze over the walls. He couldn't understand it all. His studies had been focussed on manipulating magic, he didn't have a full vocabulary and was far from fluent though he knew a lot of curse words and insults. The sage had enjoyed throwing those at him. He could pick out words here and there and the sentence structure was recognisable. However it would take a heron to decipher all of this.

He listened as a heron did just that and Ike and Mist reacted accordingly. So this was why Nasir wanted them to go here. This was certainly enlightening but the thought of Nasir gave him no comfort. Stefan was right, though of course he'd never say it out loud. It was only a matter of time until he once again had nothing.

The newest arrival to their camp seemed to want to accelerate the process. He was a more amiable laguz but that wasn't saying a great deal. Ranulf was at least more intelligent and quicker witted than his fellow Gallians, which made logical sense as he was their superior. Ike clearly liked him, which gave him a few points in his favour, however Soren found his intelligence a little disconcerting. Stefan had once mentioned that Mordecai was currently puzzling over what he was. Try as the tiger might, Ranulf was a great deal more intelligent than he was. Ranulf would understand sooner and because he was so close to Ike, he was dangerous. He had been accused of being paranoid before however this time he felt properly justified. He lay in their tent at night, listening to Ike's snores, wondering about the dangers of the following day. Sleep came with difficulty. The countdown simply would not leave his mind. He avoided eating with others with a great enthusiasm than usual. Of course Ike noticed but he had to disobey orders for his own survival. The situation could not get any worse.

"You're no Spirit Charmer! Ha, you may be able to fool others with that, but not me! It's because we're the same, see?"

It had become significantly worse. Face to face with General Petrine and her lance of fire, Soren's blood ran cold. So far in the fight she had been of no threat. Her soldiers had been well posted along the bridge that certainly was in need of some repair. However they had soon ploughed their way across back in Crimean soil and all that remained was her and her wyvern riding minions. Yet the might of her flame lance was nothing compared to the damnation in her words. Ike was right beside him and Ranulf was only a short distance away aiding the Crimean knights. There was a distinct possibility he had heard and there was no doubt in Soren's mind that Ike had. This was most definitely worse. He used the surge of emotion to power his magic and knock the woman off her horse and into the stone wall behind her. She landed with a sickening crunch just audible over the screeches of the dying wyverns.

"The same?" Soren quickly taunted, deciding it was best to cover his back, "Don't be ridiculous. You kill for sport and all manner of wickedness. Don't compare me to likes of you."

Typically, on the death of their commander, the few remaining Daein soldiers fled to live another day. The immediate clean-up operation began however Ike drew Soren over to wall that still bore a lot of tainted blood. Soren tried his best to ignore it and focussed upon Ike, who seemed undisturbed by the whole affair. Was it now? Was this the moment to say goodbye? Ranulf was watching them, he could see the cat over Ike's shoulder. Ranulf winked at him and Soren did his best to remain impassive.

"Quick question," Ike said, "What was that woman on about? What's a Spirit Charmer?"

"She was mostly raving," Soren lied hastily, "She would have to be considering no one in their right mind becomes a Spirit Charmer. It is when one trades their own soul for increased magical power. It usually drives the person insane."

"Ah," Ike replied, "Well, I'm glad you're not one of those then. So what did she mean by the fact you're the same?"

"I have no idea, she was clearly mad."

"I see, well, I'll go help the hawks dismantle those ballistae." With that Ike walked off back towards the bridge. Soren watched him depart, relief a better means to calm the nerves than a hot drink or an organised payroll. If only it could have lasted longer.

"Well done." It was Ranulf, "You've clearly had a lot of practice in doing that."

"What do you mean?" Soren snapped. Ranulf smiled so widely some of his pointed teeth were visible.

"Using magic of course, you're clearly skilled. What else did you think I meant?" With that same smug smile he transformed and went to assist in the recovery efforts.

He knew. He knew and Soren knew he knew and this was all going to go horribly wrong! He compulsively busied himself in healing and keeping stock of damaged or missing weapons however even as he completed such mundane tasks his heart pounded a frantic and seemingly irregular beat in his chest. It was only a matter of time. He had to stay away from Ike, Ranulf and anyone else who knew or could find out. Yet how was he to know if Ranulf had told Ike if he wasn't around to hear it? He had to keep close but remain undetected. He knew this danger would come but he hadn't been prepared for its immediacy.

He ignored Stefan as they set up camp. He ignored Ranulf as he delivered his post-battle report. He didn't join the rest of the army for meals and when he attempted to use the excuse of sleep, it simply would not come. Two nights after they re-entered Crimea, he decided to travel around the camp instead of resting, keeping to the dimly lit areas and deciding to forgo the area he knew Stefan liked to lurk in – the storage area beside the training ground. However he had simply walked away from the possible frying pan and into a very definite fire. As he walked past the set of tents that served as kitchens, he encountered Ike.

"I thought you went to sleep," Ike stated.

"I attempted to." Soren wasn't lying, he had night after night sought to rest but he could never catch more than an hour at a time due to his fear that he would wake to find Ike throwing him out.

"I see. Do you want to go for a walk?"

Soren's mind instinctively went back to the last time he and Ike had gone on a walk alone together about the campsite. That had ended disastrously. He should probably excuse himself before the situation became more dangerous.

"If you don't mind, I'd quite like to try getting some sleep again."

Ike stared at him for a moment before suddenly retreating into one of the kitchen tents. Frowning, Soren followed but it appeared Ike knew what he was doing for it didn't take him long to return Soren's attention, a few slices of what looked like bread in his hand.

"Oscar made this but you didn't come to dinner. He noticed you aren't eating properly so he made your favourite."

It was fruit bread. Trying not to appear over eager Soren took it from Ike with a small nod.

"I shall thank him when next I see him."

"Good," Ike took some fruit bread for himself and pushed his way out of the tent, "Now let's go for a walk."

Soren relented and they set off to the campsite's edge. They passed Mia and Marcia who were taking their turn on patrol. Marcia's pegasus nickered quietly as they passed but the women didn't give them a second glance. They had stepped up security since Nasir's escape though Soren was secretly sure no one in this army could stop Nasir if he really did want to get away by force. He'd noticed Ike took him off the guard roster. Upon being confronted about it, Ike had said he'd decided Soren's irregular sleep and eating habits made him officially ill. Titania had seconded the idea. Soren wished Ike wouldn't consult her over his health but the fact that Ike was concerned about him was not to be sniffed at. However the danger remained and with how paranoid he had been over the last few days, it was better if this was a short walk so he had less chance to give himself away.

They walked in silence for a while, merely eating. They had passed three other guard points before Ike finally spoke up.

"Soren, do you remember the last time we went for a walk like this?" Ike suddenly asked. Soren lowered his handful of bread. Of course he remembered, he had revealed far too much about himself then, he had been far too honest. It wouldn't happen again. He decided it was best to change the topic of conversation.

"Has Titania asked you to lecture me again?"

"No, this has nothing to do with Titania, or anyone else. This is just about you."

"If it was just about me we wouldn't be having this conversation." Soren replied. Ike seemed to be able to tell he was stalling however.

"You know what I mean," he insisted, "Ever since, well, shortly before the medallion got stolen actually, I've had a lot of things to think over. Things that I once thought were certain and just always there, they've stopped being so. I must have once thought my mother was a permanent person in my life, then my father, and even that medallion, Mist's always had it. I can't help but think of things changing and the only person I can think of that has been constant and reliable in my life is you."

He seemed to be saying this in a positive light but Soren couldn't be sure. He let Ike continue so he would glean more about what this was really about.

"And then I got thinking," Ike continued, "About what you said last time we went on a walk like this. There's still something I don't understand. You felt insecure, especially when we were talking then, it's the most unsure I've ever seen you. But you survived, you're strong and you're a very good mage. Why would you feel insecure about who you are, parents or no parents? I think it would do you some good to tell me, maybe even tell me everything."

This was it. The last few days, the last battle, they had all led to this moment. Had Ranulf dropped hints to Ike? Had Stefan said something in public? If that blue feline had just had the sense to keep his mouth shut. If that Daein General had simply minded her damn business!. If that irritating swords master could just keep his thoughts to himself for a change! They were trying to drive him away from everyone, no, they were trying to drive him away from Ike! They knew, or had probably guessed, that Ike was the sole person who meant a great deal to him. Hadn't Ike mentioned the laguz didn't like him? That people talked about him round camp. Titania didn't like him as far as she could throw him. There was a whole army of people wanting their separation. They thought they were doing a good deed but they were hideously and hopelessly wrong!

"Soren?"

Anger, mixed with a tinge of fear, caused him to lash out at the expectant man beside him.

"Why? Just… why do we have to talk about this? Can't you just leave me be? It's easier this way so why can't it just remain so? Why do people have to pry into other people's business?"

"Because," Ike seemed to consider his reply for a moment before firmly stating, "Because people care for you. Your friends get worried."

"I don't have any friends!" Soren retorted, "I don't have anyone else and what if I tell you and then you turn on me? I… I don't think I could survive that! So just…"

Ike, who had drawn closer to him as he spoke, stopped in his tracks as he fixed Soren with one of the most serious gazes Soren had ever witnessed from him. He was grounded by the stare, it seemed even his anger and frustration were immobilised and all he felt was fright under that expectant, but oddly caring, stare.

"That's why you have to tell me," Ike said, his voice had softened. Could he sense his fear? Was he pitying Soren? He didn't want to be pitied!

"You'll never tell anyone else," Ike continued, "If you don't tell anyone, you're going to keep suffering. Look at you! Look how you've been acting for weeks, let alone the last few days. You've barely slept, barely ate, you're a mess! Come on, talk to me."

"Ike…I…" Somehow everything seemed different tonight. Perhaps it was because he was acting uncharacteristically emotional himself. Perhaps he had learnt since their last encounter. Whatever it was, Soren had the distinct impression this wasn't pity. It was something else, something caring, deep and entirely alien to him. Perhaps that was why it had taken him so long to realise. Had Ike been like this before? Was he like this every time he had bargained Soren into getting some sleep or brought him food when he skipped meals? Was this what Ike had displayed when he had informed him he'd stopped the others insulting Soren. Dare he call this proper care? Dare he tell Ike the truth? If this was care he couldn't bring himself to see the reverse. He wanted Ike to remain like this. He didn't want to see the hatred from Ike too. He couldn't bear it.

"Ike… I… I can't."

"Soren, I don't give two figs who your parents are, or where you come from. There is no harm in telling me."

It must be madness but a part of Soren was prepared to believe that. This was Ike. This was the boy who'd given him his lunch so many years ago. Not caring that his villagers had thrown stones at this same dying child only that morning. It was possible he was unaware of this but the same person remained in those determined eyes. Soren abhorred gambling but for some reason taking the biggest risk of his life seemed a little bit easier. Ike was waiting patiently for him to say something. He had to do something.

"Ike, I won't… I can't… Ike, I'm…" He hated his own incoherence but it felt like a solid lump had grown in his throat as if his body was trying desperately to prevent his secret coming out. He took a deep breath.

"I'm Branded, one of the Branded." It came out in a slightly hysterical rush but there, it was out in the open, big and ugly. He stared at his boots. He didn't want to see Ike's scowl.

"What's a Branded?"

Soren looked up in surprise. Ike was frowning slightly but it wasn't in hatred.

"It's a cross between a beorc and a laguz," Now he had expelled the secret the lump seemed to have subsided, speech came easier, "Such a taboo violates all the teachings of the goddess and therefore we are abhorred. We are untouchables. Abominations. We are both races and therefore neither. Society demands we are stamped from existence."

Ike still looked a little confused. Soren's anxiety had not lifted. What if Ike rejected him as soon as he realised what all this truly meant?

"Let me make sure I follow you," Ike said after a moment's consideration, "You're part laguz?"

"Yes," Soren replied, "The mark on my forehead is the proof of that. I learnt about it whilst researching in Mainal Cathedral."

"That explains why you were so quiet when we were leaving Begnion," Ike added. Soren nodded swiftly and continued.

"Until then I always thought it was a birthmark of sorts. Some thought it was the mark of a Spirit Charmer."

"One of the people who trade their souls?"

"Yes, it often leaves a mark upon the person's body," Soren hastily explained, "My mark led the old sage to become interested in me. He thought he had got a deal on a Spirit Charmer, instead all he got was a filthy Branded."

Ike seemed to have come to a conclusion. His frown had become a little more defined but he still didn't seem hostile. That didn't make sense! How could he understand yet still bear to be in Soren's company?

"All right," Ike said, "I understand. So what?"

"What do you mean so what?" Soren hated the slight note of hysteria in his repetition of Ike's query.

"So you have laguz blood in your veins and a mark on your forehead to prove it. So what's the problem?"

"What's the problem!" Soren exclaimed, "Don't you find me repulsive? How can you be so calm? I work beside you, eat beside you, sleep in the same tent! Yet I don't belong anywhere. I shouldn't exist. Doesn't that sicken you?"

"No." Ike hadn't even hesitated, "No, it doesn't. This doesn't change anything. You're still you. You're still my friend. That mark doesn't make you less able to be beside me. It doesn't stop you being a capable officer of this army. Frankly, we couldn't keep going without you. I've never been bothered that there's a mark on your head and that's not going to change."

He spoke with such conviction that Soren couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Ike did not mince his words. Soren embarrassingly fumbled for words for a moment. How was he supposed to respond in this situation? He could relay reports and numbers with so much ease but when it came to something like this. Could you study how to deal with this level of unease and emotion?

"You're… You don't remember… but we met in Gallia. I was dying and... you were there," he was getting nowhere with this, "What I'm trying to say is, well… I consider you…my friend. You're my only friend."

Ike smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. Soren flinched but didn't back away. This was as much of a statement as everything as Ike had said. He couldn't put a label on what he felt right now. It was a potent mixture of relief, embarrassment, fear and something that had his heart pounding faster than a horse's hooves. He felt like crying but that would look utterly idiotic. He couldn't cry in front of Ike, he didn't want to look even weaker. He didn't want Ike to think he was vulnerable.

"Stefan, Stefan is one too," He decided a fitting revenge would settle his nerves, "Nasir knew we both were, he blackmailed us."

"You knew he had turned traitor?" Ike seemed distracted but not angry.

"We both knew he was in league with Gallia, we overhead him talking to the Gallians but when my suspicions increased, I accosted him and he threatened to tell you what I was."

"He has a lot to answer for but we can't really do anything but keep an eye out for him at the moment." Ike seemed weary but still resolute. He still had a hand on Soren's shoulder and Soren had the bizarre urge to place his own hand on top of it. He brushed this off as irrational.

"We should get to bed," Ike suddenly broke what had become an extended silence. Soren blinked at the change in topic. Ike had evidently stopped thinking about the situation at hand if he was dismissing it so casually. Had this meant so little to him? This hadn't been a throw-away comment, Soren had been worrying about this ever since he had learnt his own heritage. However couldn't it be considered a good thing that Ike thought so little of it? He didn't care that Soren was a Branded, it was almost as if nothing had changed. Feeling conflicted, Soren followed Ike back through camp.

"Soren." Ike stopped right in front of the tent they shared with Soren's records and some basic supplies.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad to be your friend. I'm also proud that you were able to say all that to me."

"I…I think we should get some sleep!" Soren bustled past him, unsure why he felt the need to cry once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: News such as summaries for new stories and when to expect new chapters can be found on my tumblr, where I also go by squishymagesquad. Follow me there to find out when to expect more stories and to find links to my works on sites like AO3!<strong>


	11. Tall Tales

**Chapter Eleven: Tall Tales**

"You're upset at me."

"Yes."

"You didn't think I'd lose did you?"

"No I didn't."

"But you're still upset?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything I can do to stop that?"

Soren bit his lip and looked away. Titania had probably filled Ike in on his behaviour whilst Ike was facing the man who killed his father. She had probably portrayed him as bitter, inconsiderate, perhaps even unsympathetic to Ike's desire for revenge. He understood that. He understood the need to make other people suffer for the suffering placed upon you. He just didn't like the idea of Ike walking off and getting himself killed. Of course he hadn't, but that didn't mean he couldn't have. There was always a possibility he could get hurt and if Soren wasn't allowed to be there he would have to live with the fact he couldn't have done everything possible to save him. Of course Titania wouldn't consider such things with her views of honour, valour and nonsense.

"I've decided that it's best to keep you and Titania apart for a while." Soren knew Ike didn't have mind-reading abilities. This only confirmed that Ike had talked to Titania before he had come to him.

"I don't care what she said about me." He had to get that clear before he learnt what she had actually said. Soren knew she could only have spoken ill of him and he was used to that, more than she could ever understand. He just didn't like her power over Ike. If she had her way perhaps she would turn Ike against him even after he had told Ike his secrets.

"Really?" Ike replied, sitting down on the supply crate Soren had been trying to pry open before he'd entered the tent.

"She said I should see you straight away because she's never seen you more terrified. Not even when you first joined the company and didn't speak much."

Ike received all the answers he needed from Soren's silence. Realising this, Soren subconsciously reached for the stone tucked in his sleeve and gripped it tight. Its strange warmth was comforting, inexplicably so, but he had always felt that he was meant to possess it. This was of course ludicrous, but somehow Soren could not let it go.

"It's not a shameful thing to be scared," Ike said suddenly breaking the silence, "It's hum…I mean…You know what I mean."

Soren nodded. He wasn't going to point out he wasn't human or any other race really. Ike would just give him another talk about how he didn't care. Soren had had enough awkward emotion for one day. Ike seemingly hadn't.

"What are you holding?"

Soren deliberated for a moment. He should show his gratitude to Ike for not making him have a discussion about his feelings. He knew this would have gone a lot worse if it had been Titania, or Rhys, who had found him. Both had seen him object whilst Ike had been battling. If Mist found out what he'd done she would never let him hear the end of it. He'd already been dishonest once and he could not do it again.

"I found it in the desert." He displayed the stone in cupped hands, "It has an innate magic that is both strange and very familiar. It's something of a comfort."

To his surprise, Ike did not take the stone off him. He merely leaned in closer to get a better look.

"Is this what you've been talking to? I've heard you talking to yourself."

Soren wondered if there was an accusation in Ike's thoughts. Was he asking why Soren had confided in a stone and not him? Was he questioning Soren's trust? This was why he had tried to keep it secret from Ike all this time. Still, he had to be honest or perhaps Ike's trust would come into question. What Ike had told him before was still burnt brightly in his thoughts. _That's why you have to tell me. You won't tell anyone else._ Technically he had but you couldn't really fit a stone under the category of 'anyone'.

"Yes. Stones cannot listen and therefore they don't judge. It doesn't care what I say, or what..." He stopped talking abruptly when he realised he could provoke another discussion about how Ike didn't care either.

"I understand," Ike stated, "But how do you know it's not doing anything to you if you can't work out its magic?

"I think…" Soren was reluctant to explain. It was if saying it aloud somehow confirmed his suspicions. He didn't think Ike would get it anyway.

"I think this magic is familiar," he began, "Because I have some of it inside of me but I can't use it. When a mage casts they channel magical energy from spirits however I can sense this energy somewhere inside me that's naturally there. It's hard to reach and I'm not sure what it is, but it's the same energy that's in the stone."

"Maybe it's from your laguz blood?" asked Ike. He had the sense to lower his voice.

"That was my conclusion. However this isn't a laguz stone."

"Odd. Well I think if it does anything that seems in the slightest bit bad, throw it away at once. You don't really need to be told that though."

"I shall."

Soren stowed the stone away in a pouch on his belt. His sleeve was not a permanent storage solution. He only used it for quick means of hiding the stone from prying eyes.

"I'm hungry," Ike announced, breaking the moment of silence after Soren's confirmation, "Are you planning to eat today?"

"I have eaten today," Soren reminded him, "But I see it wise to do so again."

"Come on then." Ike got off the crate Soren was supposed to be sorting through. Soren stared at it before following his commander out. The crate wasn't going anywhere and was mostly full of battered iron weaponry. Everyone had superior weapons, or at least better things to do with their time, then steal them. They left the tent and passed through the campsite to where the camp cooks, Oscar and his small team of willing helpers plus Kieran, would undoubtedly be attempting to produce tonight's meal. As they moved away from the supplies they saw the securely guarded tent where Nasir and his granddaughter were currently residing. Ike had offered him a chance to go speak to them. Perhaps he thought that Soren would be good at interrogation? Normally Soren wasn't bad but there was no way he could have any power over two Goldoans. It was easier when the people were interrogating relied on your for their wages. Perhaps Ike was just giving him a chance for revenge for being blackmailed. That was admittedly tempting. However Soren felt so uneasy around the Goldoans he didn't like their company.

Somehow, he could always tell where about they were in the campsite. If faced with a number of tents he could always tell which one they were in. It was quite frankly disturbing because he thought it very likely that they could do the same. Also when they crashed into that reef off the coast of Goldoa, that had been unbearable. He had felt something he could no longer brush off as sea-sickness. There had been a bizarre sort of warmth in his chest, like every cliché existing about familial bonds. Dragons had pushed their ship to safety and apparently the Prince of Goldoa himself had come to the shore. The only conclusion Soren could come to was insufficient. His laguz blood was Goldoan, that was as clear as day now. However he did not know enough about Goldoans to understand this extra sensory ability. Goldoa was a large country, maybe the dragon laguz needed this ability to find each other. That just sounded ridiculous though. Besides, why would he need that ability? Why would any dragon want their 'parentless' offspring to find them?

"Oi, Ike!"

Soren was roused from his thoughts as they drew closer to the cooking area. Boyd was sitting on top of a barrel watching them. He seemed to have been sent away from cooking for he was sporting burnt fingers.

"Aren't you going to celebrate beating that villain?"

Soren shot him a glare. Celebrating revenging someone's death seemed rather inappropriate. People celebrated suffering enough.

Boyd had the nerve to laugh at him.

"Silly me, you're about to. Don't let me disturb you two!" He continued laughing as he legged it between two tents. A wise decision considering this was Boyd and he was rather flammable.

Ike merely sighed. Soren was surprised, not by what Boyd had said, but by Ike's reaction.

"I see you've been getting that too," he commented.

"I don't understand why people like to talk about people in power so much," Ike replied, "Their stories get very strange. At least we spend time together so people could think…that. You should hear some of the stories they tell about Elincia."

"I'm sure they're rather vulgar and nothing to be taken note of."

Ike shrugged and headed towards the smell of cooking. Soren frowned and thought over what exactly people could be saying about Princess Elincia. Now she had her retainers back she spent a lot less time hanging round Ike. With her absence, Soren's opinion of her had become slightly more favourable. Ike wouldn't care what others said about him but it could be bad for company morale if anything too damning was discussed. He would have to consider this after he had gone through the supplies. Perhaps planting a few rumours of his own could have the opposite effect and boost loyalty. This was certainly interesting. He would have to look into it.

* * *

><p>He should not be so excited. Excitement was the wrong reaction here. Especially as he knew that his quandary had been in direct opposition to Ena and therefore his commander would have been the one ordering Ena's capture. He had stopped thinking his relative was this man's butler. Kurthnaga didn't know if 'war-butler' was a beorc term but that seemed to be what this hatchling was doing. He was a servant with a degree of power over other servants, but he worked for a commander and fought on the battlefield. He would have to look up how beorc social roles worked sometime, though he doubted the library had much about them.<p>

However what had him so excited was the fact that this hatchling, despite the severity of his life, despite how angry and bitter he was, had finally found someone. He was insulted and patronised so often but he clearly had found someone who cared about him in his commander. Not only that, Kurthnaga had just discovered from his quandary's murmurings that many around the camp perceived him and his commander as being in love. They were! Kurthnaga was so sure they were but his quandary had been so hurt all his life that he didn't know the signs! Admittedly Kurthnaga didn't know the signs himself but so many people couldn't be wrong! This hatchling clearly adored his commander; he only had good things to say about him whilst he was so bitter about everything else. Ah, it was so wonderful! The poor male had been through so much he deserved some happiness!

_"Prince Kurthnaga. Prince Kurthnaga!"_

Distracted, Kurthnaga sat up immediately and scrambled across his bed for the newest sending stone that lay by a bedpost. He hadn't heard from Ena for so long he had only kept hold of the old one. His quandary had been very emotion-laden recently so he'd distracted himself from worrying about Ena by writing everything they said down and revelling in this unexpected happy turn. However that had definitely been Nasir's voice from the stone and if Nasir was alright then so was Ena! He scooped up the stone and exclaimed

"Nasir! Are you well? Is Ena well? Are you at war?"

"_Please speak a little quieter my prince,"_ Nasir replied, _"I have the favour of our current guard but I do not want to arouse too many suspicions."_

"I'm sorry," Kurthnaga dropped his voice to a whisper, "But –"

_"We're well and yes, we are at war,"_ Nasir interrupted, _"Ena lost her stone in the skirmish and was thus unable to contact you. We are currently being held by General Ike's army, that which seeks to free Crimea and bring down the Mad King of Daein."_

"Are they good?" asked Kurthnaga before hastily correcting himself, "I mean, are they fighting for a just cause? They almost killed Ena."

_"I believe they are."_ Kurthnaga heard some sort of satisfaction in Nasir's tone. What was he so pleased about? War didn't seem to be something you should be happy about and Nasir's current situation wasn't exactly ideal. Kurthnaga knew he was rather naïve about the wider world but this just seemed a little bizarre

_"General Ike has united beorc and laguz in a way not seen since your father's youth. He is free of the constrained thinking of beorc nobles and I believe he may be a sincere force of change."_

"That sounds great," Kurthnaga replied. He spoke hurriedly, realising this was probably his only chance to get some answers about his quandary. Nasir had travelled for a lot of beorc time with General Ike, and their lost kin served General Ike quite closely. Surely Nasir had come across him?

"Nasir," he began tentatively, "Have you come across –" Nasir interrupted him.

"_Your nephew, my prince?"_

Kurthnaga was momentarily lost for words. Nasir had just said it so plainly. There was no hesitation, no question, absolutely no sign that there was any doubt in the white dragon's mind that Kurthnaga had gained a nephew. He was an uncle! He was no longer the youngest Goldoan and he was an uncle! Oh this was simply the best! An uncle, him! He could care for his little nephew just as Rajaion had done for him! They could read books together in the library, take flying trips over the forest and even go explore the bits of the castle he wasn't allowed to go in on his own! Nasir could bring his nephew home with him when he returned and…

_"He's a Parentless."_

Kurthnaga's elation ceased spiralling into the endless possibilities of family activities. However his enthusiasm did not fade but amassed a layer of confusion upon its surface.

"I…I don't…" The words felt heavy on his tongue. He had come to a conclusion. He must have done without even being aware of it. He was still excited to have a nephew and being told they were a Parentless hadn't changed that. That must mean he didn't particularly care whether they were a Parentless or not. He simply did not mind.

"I don't…don't think that matters," he managed. Nasir gave a small noise of surprise.

"Your highness?"

"I don't think it matters that he's a Parentless," Kurthnaga said, gaining confidence, "He's my family and I want him to live happily and healthily."

Hundreds of miles away Nasir began to laugh. It was a strangely sad and melancholy chuckle and Kurthnaga could hear him muttering under his breath as he did so. He wondered who Nasir was talking to. Was Ena in the vicinity? Was he talking to her and attempting to do it secretly? Before he could ask these questions, Nasir voiced his reply.

_"You are so much like your elder brother, my prince. He too didn't care that his nephew was a Parentless, he sought to protect him all the same."_

"Rajaion protected him?" Kurthnaga had never felt so proud of himself. He had decided on the right thing! He was just like Rajaion, a proper family-orientated laguz with a kind heart and a caring soul.

_"Your nephew was a baby and thus will not remember it, but yes, Crown Prince Rajaion gave his freedom to protect your sister and nephew. He is the reason my grand-daughter has been left trapped in this state."_

"But when you free him Rajaion will be so glad to learn that his nephew is still alive. He will know his sacrifice was not in vain," Kurthnaga couldn't help but remain optimistic. Nasir and Ena were fine, his brother was alive and he had a nephew! This was a day he would remember for centuries!

_"That is true,"_ Nasir replied, _"However I don't think your nephew will be too pleased if he starts receiving too much familial attention. He's trying to keep his nature a secret."_

"I understand, but how is he? I've only ever heard him talk privately, what's he usually like?"

_"His name is Soren and he is the tactician and staff officer of the Greil Mercenaries, led by General Ike. He possesses great intellect and magic power, the latter being born of his heritage of course. You will not be able to get him to Goldoa. He has devoted himself to General Ike. Besides, your father would not accept him regardless of how great his family resemblance is."_

That dampened Kurthnaga's spirits only a little. He was thrilled to finally know the truth behind his nephew's life. He wasn't a servant or slave at all, he was simply loyal (and perhaps a little in love) with his commander!

"Is he currently happy?" he asked Nasir.

_"He has the disposition of your sister when she reached adolescence."_

"Oh…He'll mature though?" Kurthnaga attempted to repress the memories of his sister bodily throwing him from her room once more. Her dolls had been so beautiful! He liked the silkiness of their dresses and as a very young hatchling he hadn't quite grasped the concept of possession yet.

_"Commander Ike will continue to have a positive influence upon –" _ Nasir suddenly stopped talking.

"Nasir?"

He received no reply.

"Nasir, are you there?"

Silence filled the room and Kurthnaga slowly lowered the stone back onto his bedcovers. Nothing bad could have happened to Nasir. His guard must have changed or something. He was in the camp on the good side of the war, the side that was going to help them bring his brother home. Also Kurthnaga was now an uncle! Well he technically already was, but who knew how many years it would be until Ena gave birth or whether she would even be able to. Dragon children were so rare after all. Yet he was actually an uncle right now, and his nephew was alive and growing up and…! His mood dampened when he remembered he was still stuck in this castle for twenty years. Twenty years was a lot of time for beorcs. Perhaps when Rajaion returned his father would be in a better mood and he wouldn't be grounded anymore. It was unlikely but… well he could just leave anyway!

He could fly away. No one cared about what happened to the youngest prince when they had the crown prince still alive. Besides, when was his father ever going to die? The Goddess had probably made him immortal. Kurthnaga wasn't needed, he was just the family baby who had grown boring over the centuries. No one would care if he flew off. Gareth might but then he could easily occupy himself with bossing someone else round. Yes! If his father wouldn't let him, he'd go himself. Not until after his brother returned however. He so dearly wanted to see Rajaion again. Rajaion would love to know his nephew was still alive.

Kurthnaga smiled and lay back on his bed again. His nephew was on his way to save his brother and Nasir and Ena were safe nearby. Soren, his nephew was called Soren. He was clever and powerful, a perfect Goldoan if not for his blood. Was Soren a common beorc name? Was it given to him or did he choose it himself? What did it mean? It was great to finally put a name to his quandary but now he wanted to know more about him. He was a tactician not a war-butler, it was good to know the right words for when they finally met!

With a head full of possibilities, Kurthnaga decided to spend the rest of the day dreaming of when he would get his long-awaited, perfect, family reunion.


	12. Twisted Bonds

**Chapter Twelve: Twisted Bonds**

In his comparatively short life, Soren had seen and done some things that others would deem 'gruesome'. He'd eaten things that a beorc stomach would never have been able to handle and a laguz nose wouldn't even be able to approach. He'd seen things in ditches that could not be described as having any race or species left to them. He'd trodden through the gory remains of a village, whose population had all been slaughtered by the man he came later to work for. He had taken clothes from the bodies, and food from their tables. In short, he thought little could revolt him through gore or grime.

He was wrong.

It was the smell that got to him first. He hadn't been affected by the sight of the feral ones like their true brethren had. He hadn't had that unsettling warm feeling about the feral dragons that he had about the Goldoans in their camp. However once he followed Ike through the twisted tower, he sensed something was terribly wrong in this dwelling. Whether this was basic intuition or his honed survival instinct didn't become apparently until they descended and the smell became more and more noticeable. There was no single means to describe it. He couldn't place an origin in the mixture of gore, burning, acrid decay and gas produced by rot. It smelt like a battle in a swamp, naturally foul with a lot of blood. The laguz nearby were ill at ease. They trod awkwardly, some covering their noses with the clothing or hands. As they descended, the smell got stronger and stronger, until suddenly Soren tripped, stumbling a few steps, only to be caught by Ike.

"Are you alright?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Soren nodded but said nothing. In truth he was feeling light-headed, his mind was swimming like he had foolishly consumed some wild specimen of mushroom he had never ate before. He leaned heavily on the wall as they continued to descend. The smell…the smell was overpowering. Ike caught him before he could fall again. Soren noticed Ranulf staring at him and narrowed his eyes at him. Ranulf wasn't look much better. None of the laguz did. The longer they spent in that gory laboratory, the more Soren wanted to vomit. The cloying sense of death in the air was nothing unfamiliar, the fact there was so much of it was. The atmosphere was poisoning him, he could feel it tugging at that vat of energy he couldn't use. It wanted to drain the power from him or…or manipulate it in some way.

He had never been more grateful to experience fresh air. He hurried away from the main group and behind a set of trees to hide the emptying of his stomach. He clearly hadn't been subtle enough to hide himself from Ike. When they made camp for the evening, thankfully away from that tower, Soren found his list of things to do had been drastically shortened. Despite the fact he didn't want to seem reliant on others, he was glad for the respite. His legs still occasionally shook and his balance was all over the place. He had found it difficult to keep his evening meal down and was even now sitting a convenient distance away from anyone who would object to seeing him throw up.

He was surprised that none of the laguz had come and accosted him. Perhaps they were in mourning for their mad brethren. Still, if there was any obvious sign that he had laguz blood it would have been his behaviour in that tower. Perhaps they were too distracted or perhaps they would decide to go through Ike first. By helping him he had probably made his stance obvious. Admittedly, Ike may not have thought that far through the consequences of his actions at the time.

Soren's stomach lurched suddenly and he hurried out of the tent and towards the bushes at the edge of camp. The prickly gauze was uncomfortable to grip as his stomach tried to eject its non-existent contents, instead producing a vile tasting concoction of saliva and bile. Soren gripped the hedge harder as his body shook with the force of his hacking. He felt cold, colder than he had ever been in the snows of Daein. He tried to control his shaking as he heard footfalls approach. Instead of a snide comment or a catcall however came a murmur of

"Here you go."

He saw familiar hands at the edge of his vision. Ike was moving his hair from his face so he didn't fill it with phlegm, whilst proving Soren with someone to lean on as the shaking disrupted his balance.

"If it'd make you feel any better, Reyson's out with a fever, Mordecai can't keep his food down either and Ranulf and Ulki haven't seen in a while. Janaff reckons they're trying to sleep off the effects in their transformed states."

"I am gladdened that I am not the only one suffering," Soren replied, his voice was rough and his throat throbbed in objection to his having to use it.

"Sleep seems to be working," Ike continued, "So you should probably get some rest. I'll help you back to our tent."

"I have lots of things…thing…"

Ike took hold of his hair again as he vomited into the hedge.

"Things I…need… need to be doing"

"I told Titania you were really ill, she, Oscar and Captain Tanith are covering record and organisation duties. Also I've put some food in our tent with some flasks of water for when you gain control over yourself. You don't need to go anywhere."

Soren straightened up with difficulty, before giving Ike a levelling stare. It however seemed to have no effect. Ike patiently stared straight back. He offered Soren his arm to help him walk.

"What about the laguz?" Soren asked of him, refusing the help and almost falling over.

"I haven't talked to them. Titania already knows what you are and I believe Oscar has worked it out. They clearly don't care."

Goddess damn it, when did Ike become so perceptive? Well, he had always been perceptive, he just wasn't knowledgeable about noble situations. Still, he had thought of everything to make sure Soren would get better quickly and he'd covered all eventualities. He was a very good commander, Soren knew that, he'd seen him grow into that. He was a good brother apparently, Mist had said so. But this… Soren could not understand this. He was not related to Ike by blood. Sure it was inconvenient if Ike lost his tactician for a while but… He'd always been shaky about the mechanisms of friendship but this just seemed unusual. Ike had no reason to care for him but he just kept doing it!

He jumped as Ike placed a large hand against his forehead.

"You're burning up. Go to bed. I can make that a command if necessary."

"You could, but that would be abusing your pow-_er_!" Soren gave an ungainly and rather hoarse shriek as Ike scooped him off his feet.

"You're going to have to get used to this eventually," Ike said as he began to stride across camp.

"To being carried princess style across camp?!" Soren exclaimed, he was glad Ike hadn't put him over his shoulder. If so he would have thrown up on his cape.

"No, to being cared for," Ike replied, ignoring all the strange looks they were getting, "I care about you. I know you're not used to it. I know you think you don't need it. However you do. So you're going to have to get used to it eventually."

When he finally put him down in their tent, Soren saw Ike looked amused.

"Now sleep. I'll be back soon. I've got to go talk to Nasir."

Soren glowered but Ike merely turned his back and strode off back the way he came. Soren moved the focus of his glare to his bedroll. He did feel terrible, but he wasn't going to leave his work to Titania, Oscar and Tanith. He swayed where he stood and repressed the need to vomit. Alright, maybe this once, but he was going to work double the amount tomorrow. He couldn't afford to rest this close to the capital!

* * *

><p>His nephew sounded like he'd just been sick, and from what he was talking about, Kurthnaga thought he couldn't blame him. He himself didn't know whether to be sick, cry, scream or fly out the window right now to go and comfort his poor nephew and put an end to the monsters who thought they could enslave his kin. He was both furious and terrified. He had only received scraps of information but that was enough to make him fear for his family. His nephew, Soren, was clearly incredibly ill. He was muttering to himself about what he and his commander had discovered in a horrible tower. However every now and again, he would make gagging sounds, as if trying, and failing, to prevent himself from being sick. His voice didn't hold its usual ferocity. He sounded pained and hopeless. It was painful for Kurthnaga to just sit on his bed and listen to his nephew, unable to ease his suffering.<p>

Kurthnaga curled up in a ball on his bed, stone in one hand, the other clenched in his tunic. Somewhere out there was the patrol his father had send after Rajaion and Almedha. His countrymen… including two cousins of Gareth's… had been lost on that trip and now he knew what had become of them. They had been reduced to mindless beasts and then killed. Perhaps some had never survived the magic and chemicals that they had been forced to consume? If they could do that to those exemplary warriors… what had happened to Rajaion and Almedha? Please, please oh great and merciful Ashera! Protect them from the evil beorc who would do such wicked things to innocent laguz! Kurthnaga wanted to cry at the very thought of his siblings, no of anyone, being reduced to living weapons, having all sense and reason tortured from their minds until they were merciless agents of death.

He could bear to listen to his nephew's descriptions of the horror any longer. He dropped the stone and assumed a kneeling position by the side of his bed. Oh mighty Ashera. Oh blessed Ashera. Protector of Tellius, of beorc and laguz alike. Do not let those evil men get to Rajaion and Almedha! He couldn't lose them. They were mighty dragons, so strong-willed, so powerful… the future of their kingdom... and he loved them. He could be jealous of Rajaion or scared of Almedha but his love for his siblings over powered all ill-will. He wanted to sit with Rajaion once more on balmy summer evenings. He wanted to race him over the sea of trees beyond the balcony. He wanted to show him how much he'd grown since their parting. He wanted to tell him that his nephew, that Almedha's son, was alive and well, and in love…

He wasn't strong enough to go find them. Father would never allow it. Kurthnaga buried his face into his blankets as his shoulders began to heave with frightened sobs. For all intents and purposes, it had been so little time since his siblings had left, twenty years was nothing to a Goldoan. Yet for him, the littlest Goldoan, and the sibling left behind, it felt like an age. All his fear, all his worry from those long twenty years seemed to condense upon him in that moment. Oh Ashera, have mercy. Let them live but let them live with their own wills and sanity intact.

He gripped the sheets as he continued to cry. He had not been so distraught since the death of his mother and now he could not help but picture the names of his siblings joining hers on their family's arch. He hadn't heard from them in twenty years! When he was younger Rajaion would visit him every day. Even after the death of their mother when gathering as a family became a thing of the past…Rajaion had been there.

_"Chin up Kurth, would Mother want you to spend all this time hiding under the bed? She'd want you to go out and see the first buds of spring. To watch the snowdrops come, white like the scales of her kin."_

_" But it's….it's not the same if she's not there,"_

_"She's there if you want her to be. She once told me that's what family is. A warmth that can never be extinguished, not even by death. It sounds soppy, but I get what she means."_

Kurthnaga didn't feel any warmth right now. He felt scared, imagining the tattered corpses of mad laguz, just like his nephew had described. He was scared, so very frightened and he wanted Rajaion to come home right now, to tell him everything would turn out alright in the end. He wanted his father to say everything would turn out fine. He wanted his father to tell him Rajaion was strong, that he could handle such things. He hadn't spoken to his father for so long… Was it normal to feel this lonely?

He picked up the newer stone, feeling around for it blindly because he couldn't bring himself to raise his face from the covers. Once he had it, he brought it close.

"Rajaion," he sobbed, "Rajaion. Please, Rajaion!"

Nothing happened. Nothing had happened concerning that name for the last twenty years.

* * *

><p><em>AN: My apologies for the short chapter this time, but the next chapter will be a very long one, full high drama and a lot of emotion. I wanted to put all that in one very intense chapter. So...<em>

_Next time in Crystal Clarity: Chapter Thirteen - "Rajaion"_


	13. Rajaion

**Chapter Thirteen: Rajaion.**

Soren had not had the sort of childhood where he grew up with stories of heroes and dragons. However he had the distinct impression he was surrounded by people who had. Despite the grimness of war, the fact that ideals matter so little when all ended in blood shed, people were still spouting nonsense the likes of which stories were made out of. _Good hearts will always win the day! Our cause is right, we cannot lose! The gods are smiling on us, victory is assured_! Nonsense, all of it. Victory came from careful planning, resourceful use of supplies, and a firm tactical grounding on the whereabouts, morale, prowess and motivations of their enemies. Having healthy inspired soldiers on their own side was also a definite advantage, so he hadn't insisted that they stop their fairy tale wish-wash but he did wish they would stop for a while. It made going to eat unbearable and despite his reservations in the past, Soren knew he did have to eat now before taking on the capital.

They were so close to completing their year-long series of battles and unnecessary scuffles. This meant a number of things to Soren. Firstly, the Daein soldiers they were about to face would either be dangerously low on morale or highly delusional in believing their King could win them the day. The delusional ones were dangerous. Being overly-loyal to someone on a losing side was a death sentence in the making. However that did make them fight harder which was all the more troublesome. However with this close proximity to the end of their current troubles, their army would only fight back harder, so that approximately compensated for this fact. Secondly, with so many troops defeated and in light of their revelation in that horrible tower, there would be more feral ones in this battle than previous ones again the Daein army, possibly including more dragons. The sight of feral dragons made Soren feel oddly sick, however his thunder tome worked well on them so he would have to put up with the unease.

Thirdly and lastly, the end meant an even more troublesome thing awaited them. Mad King Ashnard, as large as life and almost as horrid, would be waiting for them ahead. Intelligence stated he flew about in black armour much like that of his most mysterious (thankfully now dead) general. This armour meant one thing, Ike was going to have to go up against the King himself wielding Ragnell. Whilst Soren had confidence in Ike's abilities, he didn't like the fact Ike could go up against the Mad King alone. This time however there was no way that Titania could stop him aiding Ike as far as his abilities would let him. He had made his own special preparations. Something even Ike noticed as they began packing up for what was hopefully the last time.

"Is that a Physic staff?" he asked Soren as the tactician left their tent, ready to see it taken down.

"Yes," Soren answered swiftly. He had his stone in one hand, drinking in its warmth before the upcoming battle. He hated to admit it but it eased his nerves a little, and his nerves were his biggest inconvenience when it came to thinking of Ike going up against the Mad King.

"I thought our troop had been allocated two Physic Staves, Mist has one and so does Rhys," said Ike, "That's what you said the other day."

Soren was glad Ike paid so much attention to his reports but it wasn't helping now.

"Indeed, this is an extra one, which I bought by other means that our usual expenditure."

"You bought it with your wages?" There was no getting past Ike.

"I did. I just thought it would be a wise idea considering our force is likely to be coming up against the King."

"Aren't they quite expensive?" Of all the times to remember the details!

"Yes, but personally I felt this was a necessary precaution."

Ike seemed to hesitate for a moment before placing a hand upon Soren's shoulder. The action caused Soren to flinch back but Ike's grip was firm.

"It's alright to be worried. Just think of it this way, once this is over, we're free of kings and queens for good. That'll be a relief."

"True," Soren nodded, wondering what Ike hoped to achieve by touching him. It kept him focussed on his commander, that was for sure, but it wasn't a tactic he had ever used on anyone else. Unfortunately he didn't have the time to puzzle through this dilemma right now. They had to make their last preparations and set off for the deciding battle of this war. If any factor was out of place, someone forgetting which weaponry they'd been assigned, the air-bound units taking the wrong directions, any factor at all, this end could be decidedly tragic. Not for Ike though, Soren had planned for every opportunity. If something so major went wrong they wouldn't even see the Mad King at all.

It was not Soren's first trip to the capital, though hopefully it would be his last. As this war began, he had fled amidst the screeches of wyverns and blasts of mage fire. There had been screams and shouts, the pounding of hooves and the orders of the guards. Soldiers and civilians had fallen alike and just as he had once done so many years ago Soren had fled from the massacre, only stopping to steal what he needed, in this case, a horse. He had now witnessed enough massacres, enough wars, to see their logic. As they approached, he could see how the numbers of wyverns had dwindled, how they were relying on feral ones and cavalry more than their proud airborne traditions. There were white dragon feral ones in this army. Soren had stared at them, a strange sort of heavy feeling settled in his throat and Ike asked him if he was alright. He said, of course, that he was. He always felt odd around Goldoans, a strange and unsettling inheritance no doubt, and one of two inexplicable feelings caused by dragon laguz. One was the slight heaviness, the other was a bizarre warmth, not unlike that from his stone, which he had felt when they had run aground on the shore of Goldoa.

Once again however, those were thoughts for another time if he paid them any attention at all. He didn't care for his heritage he just wanted to know if these sensations were threatening. The more immediate danger however was the manically grinning King who had the gall to come down and actually greet them as they took back the castle entrance. Soren backed off into the assembled warriors as the King's mount landed heavily and the King began his taunts. Soren kept close attention to the King's prattling in the hope of finding a weakness, however he was soon distracted by the fact that the almighty beast the King rode was staring straight at him. He could of course be imagining this. He stepped to one side. The wyvern's…no, dragon's gaze followed. The realisation came to Soren like being doused in swamp water, cold and foul. Nasir was nearby so the strange Goldoan-sensing feeling of heaviness remained but somehow…it had gotten worse. Not only that, but the warm feeling was back too and he couldn't understand why. He stared at the dragon, at its black scales and red wings. Black and red, like the hair and eyes of that Goldoan prince at the reef. Were black dragons not the most powerful of all laguz? Weren't they also Goldoa's royal family? So this was a royal Goldoan, no doubt made feral, who was related to that prince. This warm familiar feeling had coincided with meeting both black and red… Oh goddess damn them all!

The King flew away as Soren noted that the feral Goldoan was remarkably tame. Feral laguz were usually vicious to the point of senselessness. The other dragons they had seen had been so. So perhaps, Soren didn't care, but perhaps he was less drugged than the others or drugged differently? He didn't think it mattered to him but he thought Ike should know what they were up against.

"Ike," he warned as the Daein troops charged. He pulled out an Elfire tome to deal with the feral tigers.

"Ike, the King's mount, it's not a wyvern."

"What?" Ike called, ridding an approaching swordsmaster of his arms.

Soren's exclamation had caught the attention of Titania and Nasir who were closest to them. It was clear they wanted to know 'what' too, though Soren thought Nasir already knew. It made sense now, why Ena the Goldoan was in Daein. She wanted to get their royal back and Nasir was only trying to protect her.

"The King's mount is a black dragon of Goldoa," Soren responded, all whilst aiming at the charging tigers, "Possibly feral, though due to the fact they weren't snarling, under less control than the others. Black dragons are said to be the most powerful laguz of them all. They're the Goldoan royal family. Be careful."

"He is our crown prince," said Nasir, who was dodging blows whilst preparing to transform, "And Ena's fiancé. She seeks to save him as he evidently has sense remaining."

"Alright," Ike replied as Nasir took his leave to transform without hitting anyone, "Titania, make sure the order gets out: try to avoid hitting the King's mount. The King's mount is a dragon and should not be harmed."

"Right." Titania charged forward, cleaving left and right as she went.

Ike stepped back, closer to Soren as cavalry charged in their direction.

"We don't have time for explanations," Soren told him.

"Afterwards then." Ike charged straight into the fray.

As the battle progressed Soren found himself increasingly pushed towards adopting the role of a healer rather than an offensive unit. Once he had proved himself as a force of laguz extermination, he joined the battle against the ever-reinforced cavalry that the King persistently threw at them. He seemed to have a death wish for his men for they were falling faster than they were arriving. As they moved through the ornate courtyard, a rather bizarre and unfitting place to have a battle, Soren found himself switching to his staff more than his tomes. The facts of battle included people did get injured and this was an important battle. If Ike had noticed his bleeding arm, he didn't have to for very long. Soren's staff experience made his new staff easy to handle and rather satisfying to use. Of course Mist was thundering around on her horse and Rhys was running back and forth with a new speed Soren had never seen him possess before. However he liked the certainty of having something he personally could do to assure Ike's…the company's… health.

That didn't mean Ike facing off with the Mad King was any less nerve wracking. His grip on his staff was so tight his nails were chipping off the paintwork. Ike wasn't alone up there. He had King Tibarn and Nasir beside him. Rhys, who stood across the courtyard opposite him, had evidently noticed Soren's line of healing spell fire for his was concentrating on the two laguz. Where Mist was, Soren didn't know and neither did he particularly care at that moment in time. She would turn up eventually. He noted that no one had aimed for the King's mount. The dragon royal better be grateful for being spared though Soren would prefer it if his own name was not dragged into it. He felt stupid for not looking at the Prince of Goldoa at the reef and realising their similarities then. They looked so alike! In his defence he didn't look in a mirror very often and he hadn't even understood what a Branded was then. Still, he had been rather idiotic.

He didn't need family. He had Ike. Yet his eyes were fixed upon the King's mount as the mad ruler signed his fate with one unfortunate missed swing. Ike gave a daring leap and severed his head straight off. The body fell from its mount, off the edge of the platform and into an already-bloodied bush. No one ran after it.

"Be careful!" called Elincia from above, "The beast is still alive!"

She may have said more but Soren was suddenly distracted as Ena pushed him aside to run at the large dragon crying

"Rajaion!"

"Ena!" called Nasir, transforming back in alarm. The dragon did nothing as Ena hurried towards it. Rajaion must be his name Soren thought as Ena slowed to a cautious halt. The dragon stirred, staring straight at her with narrowed eyes. A dull rumbling echoed from its throat and Ena visibly flinched.

"Perhaps if I may try something?" Another laguz interruption came from the other end of the courtyard. Prince Reyson brushed the attentions of King Tibarn aside as he trod forwards as deceptively serene as always. He spread his arms and wings in unison and began a galdr Soren had never heard before. His knowledge of the ancient language made him catch words like 'healing', 'renewal' and 'return' however that was as far as he could translate. The effects were curious. Like other heron galdr there was a lot of glowing light and music, however the glowing haze settling over Rajaion was golden rather than the usual green or blue. He stirred and suddenly there was a flash of red light.

Soren stepped forward for a closer look. No one seemed to mind.

Lying on the floor, his head soon cradled in Ena's lap, was a forlorn looking man. He seemed incredibly ill, his skin and hair were faded and a little grey but the black in his hair and the red in his eyes were visible just as Soren expected. If he could stand, Soren reckoned he would be rather tall. However the fact he was skin and bones and didn't even have the energy to move himself closer to his fiancé meant…

"I think we should leave them to it," Ike told him, "He reminds me of when my father found you... on the way to death and just as pale."

Soren merely nodded and followed him back down the stairs. He would have to take inventory and help with the clean-up. However the warmth in his chest had been joined by a prickly sensation like fear or worry but deeper. It was a foreboding sensation and Soren felt it could only mean one thing.

"I don't think he'll survive," he told Ike, his voice low so no one else could hear.

"Hmm." Ike seemed to agree.

Instead of setting up camp they were able to take rooms in the castle and thus ended the War for Crimean Liberation. History would undoubtedly give it a catchier name in time but Soren was not concerned with such matters. He slept in a cot in the same room as Ike. Having left his title on the battlefield, Ike had refused fancier living quarters and instead slept in the barracks with the other mercenaries. Soon they would leave, pockets heavy with gold and a lot of reconstruction to plan for. After all that war Soren was looking forward to dealing with supplies on a smaller scale…as well as a familiar setting and common food. Court fanciness turned his stomach. He sat awake at night, stone in hand, filing away all his thoughts on Goldoans, speaking to rid himself of thoughts he should not care for. The result was a clearer head and a greater focus on the here and now.

There were banquets. There were balls. There was much celebration and then it was over. There was reconstruction to deal with and laguz to integrate but apart from that, they were free. Soren didn't like how the Begnion Prime Minister had stared at Ike over the banquet table but he pushed this fact away for a later time. If they were lucky they would never have to see that man again. Soren would say nothing was definite but Ike was avoiding his title like it was diseased. So hopefully Begnion was a thing of the past for their little company.

"Going home?"

He passed Stefan as they filed from the castle grounds. The man must have been waiting for him, there was no other reason why he wouldn't have left yet.

"Yes, home with Commander Ike."

The branded just sighed and turned his back to the mercenary troop. Soren hoped that had been another face he would never view again. Most of the mercenaries would know by now and were probably being kept in line by Ike.

He hurried up to keep in step with his commander. Now their greatest foe would be the long road home.

* * *

><p>Crimea was a long way from home, Kurthnaga thought as he poured over a slightly dusty map. He pushed it aside and lay back on his bed with a deliberately loud sigh. Gareth was in the corridor outside, he could hear him breathing. Why wasn't he coming inside? Kurthnaga had done nothing lately that warranted having his door guarded. He wanted to ask what the matter was but if Gareth was this tense, he could tell by how loudly he was breathing, it was best to give him his space. Kurthnaga did want to go the library and they had locked his window to stop him flying out of it, so he was getting rather bored. His nephew was busy liberating Crimea with his commanding officer so he wasn't talking right now. What was with everyone today?<p>

He rolled over and stared at the pair of sending stones on his pillow. Everything was too quiet, it was making him impatient and it took a lot to make him impatient. If his next nineteen years of being grounded were going to be like this he was going to go mad. What had he done to warrant Gareth being set on him and no access to the library? No one had said anything to him and it simply was not-

_"Kurthnaga!"_

He jumped so much it was as if someone had hit him with magic. He grabbed the sending stone as Ena's voice called out through his room.

"Ena?"

_"Yes it's me…but there's someone else here too."_

There was silence for a moment before-

_"Kurth…"_

"Rajaion!" Oh bless Ashera and her many graces! He was alive. Rajaion was alive and he could talk, this was beyond his wildest dreams!

_"Kurth, are you well? How is everything at home?"_

"I'm fine and well, everything here is the same as ever. It's still quiet and dusty. Are… are you well?

After the initial shock had subsided Kurthnaga could hear how ill his brother sounded. His voice was faint and shaky. It sounded as if he was trembling uncontrollably. He grasped the stone tighter as if that would provide some relief but he knew better.

_"I've had better days. I'm lucky to have survived Daein's King. If it wasn't for our nephew recognising what I was… I doubt I would be here to talk to you or even to see Ena again."_

"Nephew?" Kurthnaga repeated, "You've seen him? Almedha's child?"

_"He has grown to look much like us…I am glad to have seen him again… I am glad this wasn't in vain. Kurth?"_

"Yes big brother?"

_"If I end up travelling to the Goddess and not to Goldoa-" _ Kurthnaga interrupted him.

"You won't die Rajaion. You're coming home at last!"

_"If," _Rajaion repeated, _"If that is the case… I want you to be the best uncle you can be to your newest nephew. Ena can protect him…just make sure he doesn't run afoul of Father's temper like hatchlings can... Also I want you to grow up until you're bigger and stronger than I ever was. You will be a splendid crown prince, and eventually you will be the kindest and most loved King Goldoa will ever-"_

"You're not going to die!" Kurthnaga exclaimed, "You're going to come home and everything is going to go back to something like normal."

_"Pray for me little brother…I'm saving all my strength for the trip home."_

"I will Rajaion, I will."

There was silence for a moment before Ena returned.

_"We're in Gallia right now, Rajaion hasn't got the strength to transform so we're moving slowly. We'll be back soon."_

"I'll be waiting for you," Kurthnaga promised and he heard no more.

So Kurthnaga waited. He wasn't sure whether it was anxiety or excitement that kept him awake but sleep became impossible in the wake of such news. Rajaion was coming home and they could be a family again. He prayed by the side of his bed until his knees were sore and his legs became numb. He would come home, however weak sounding, Rajaion was the Crown Prince of Goldoa. He was strong. He would not be defeated by what the evil beorc had done to him. Gareth seemed to be waiting alongside him. Perhaps Nasir had already told him before Ena had contacted Kurthnaga He let servants come with food however his vigil was a silent one. If Kurthnaga could wait, Gareth could wait longer. Kurthnaga thought about bringing him a chair but Gareth was scowling too heavily to be approachable. Gareth didn't sleep either. Kurthnaga could hear him breathing as he prayed through the night.

Ashera was benevolent and merciful, she wouldn't let Rajaion die. Kurthnaga believed in her and in Rajaion, not to mention Ena's desire to keep her lover alive. He would be back so very soon. It shouldn't take long for three Goldoans to cross Gallia even if they were untransformed.

"Prince Kurthnaga." On the second day after his contact with Rajaion, Gareth finally spoke.

"Yes?"

"Your father wishes to see you. Change into fresh clothes and come with me." Gareth left so he could put on clean clothes (something else he had forgotten in the last few days) and Kurthnaga complied with haste. He left the room to see that Gareth looked surlier than ever. His heart dropped. His father never requested to see him unless something was urgent and important. It was foolish to think his father didn't know what had happened to Rajaion by now. Perhaps he was calling Kurthnaga there so they could welcome Rajaion home together? He tried to cling to that hope but it was rapidly becoming sour.

He followed Gareth into the audience hall. His father sat there alone on his stone chair. He had two cups of wine on the table to his left hand side. He didn't look up at the new arrivals, his gaze was fixed on the stone chair beside his own. Their mother's chair, Kurthnaga thought, and the third chair… the Crown Prince's. Rajaion should be sitting there, yet his father had never looked so alone.

Kurthnaga jumped as the door closed behind him. Gareth had left them alone together. He shivered. His hopes were fading faster than the light upon the horizon. The hall was growing darker…he wanted to go back to his room and pray.

"Kurthnaga," his father began, his voice was level and stern yet different to its usual severity.

"Yes Father?" Kurthnaga replied. His own voice had gained a high pitched note it had not contained since his hatchling years. If Rajaion was coming home, wouldn't his father look a little happier? Then again when was the Dragon King ever happy?

"Kurthnaga, sit." King Dheginsea gestured to the third stone chair. Kurthnaga stared at it.

"That's Rajaion's chair."

"Just sit."

Kurthnaga did as he was told, feeling very small as the high stone back towered over him.

"Kurthnaga." His name again, was this how his father struggled with words?

"Kurthnaga, you are to fly out with me to ocean-"

"No!" Kurthnaga rose from his seat as he interrupted his father. Going to the ocean only meant one thing and he would not allow it!

"Kurthnaga, sit down." The deepening of his father's voice sent him back onto the stonework, "You will fly out with me to the ocean, and there meet with Lady Ena and –"

Kurthnaga could not keep quiet.

"Father! He isn't! He's coming back! He's going to come back so we can be a family again!"

The King let out a heavy sigh and finally

"Rajaion passed away three hours ago. He had just crossed the border."

"No," Kurthnaga choked. He had known, deep down he had known this was why he had been summoned, but that didn't make this any less horrible. Rajaion had returned to Goldoa. Rajaion had almost been home. Yet, and yet, he was gone far beyond where Kurthnaga could reach him. It wasn't fair. This didn't need to happen! It wasn't-

"Kurthnaga." His father finally looked at him. He was just in time to see the tears start falling down his youngest son's cheeks. Kurthnaga tried to scrub them away but it was hopeless.

"He has joined the Goddess in eternal rest," his father seemed to remind him, "And…he shall be with Eirlys again…"

"I don't want him to be with Mother," Kurthnaga sobbed, " I want him to be with us! He said he was going to come home!"

"Now is not the time to act like a hatchling. We must head to the ocean and perform the last rites of passage."

Kurthnaga thought his father was being far too calm about this. Rajaion had died. His older brother, his father's first son, had died and here he was, acting like it was any other day! Why didn't he at least look or sound sad? Did he feel nothing? Had he imagined his father being lost for words? Well, he seemed to think he had said all that needed to be. The King got to his feet and strode out towards the balcony, not even checking to see if his youngest was following. Kurthnaga considered refusing to leave Rajaion's chair. To deny his death against all reason because Rajaion could simply not be gone. However he remembered Ena would be down there. Ena who had just lost the man she loved. She would need more support than he. She would no doubt be just if not more distraught. Rajaion loved his family…he would have wanted Kurthnaga to help Ena through this time but… No. He had to go. He wanted anything but that, yet he had to. Rajaion would want, Rajaion did want… Was Rajaion watching over him right now like Mother was.

_ "She's there if you want her to be. She once told me that's what family is. A warmth that can never be extinguished, not even by death. It sounds soppy, but I get what she means."_

Rajaion had said once that your family never really left you…did he know then that one day he would fall to evil beorc and see his own end approach? Was Rajaion truly there if Kurthnaga wanted him to be? He had his advice to live by, his memories to console himself… it was just like it had been before he knew Rajaion was coming back. Rajaion was just even further away now, beyond any wing or ship.

Kurthnaga slowly made his way to the balcony and stared at the uncaring horizon. He tried to wipe away his tears on his sleeves but they would not stop flowing. May the Goddess… no. He couldn't do it. The only way he could think to hide his tears was transforming. Once in dragon form he had no choice but to fly towards the never-ending ocean.


End file.
